


Our Love is Mad Mad Mad

by AmeliaAsherWrites



Series: Back to the Start [1]
Category: Back to the Future (Movies), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Once Upon a Time Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Back to the Future References, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Mild Language, Missing Year (Once Upon a Time), Mystery, Once Upon a Time: Out of the Past, Sexual Tension, Time Travel, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaAsherWrites/pseuds/AmeliaAsherWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a catastrophic clerical error of the gods, Ariel is forced to make a life-altering decision to leave Storybrooke and return to the land of her home realm or else her favorite realm will disappear into the sea. Likewise, Jefferson struggles to come to grips with the fact that he allowed love into his heart again and lost it.<br/>Slow burn and angsty MadMermaid, some Doc Brown (Back to the Future) shenanigans, and villainry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work as well as each chapters' beginning italicized quotes are from the song "Madness" by Muse. This band speaks to me on so many levels as a Muse does. After writing this fic, I was looking for a title and stumbled upon an old favorite and decided to include it within here. I do not own any of the characters written here. MadMermaid has quickly become my favorite ship. I'm writing this for myself and fellow MadMermaid shippers. Headcanon on why there is no Eric: The way he looked at Ariel on Once Upon a Time was so lifeless, it quickly shot my hopes for Ariel down the drain. I have shipped Ariel and Jefferson together for over a year now and having the opportunity to write these two together has only strengthened my appreciation for the two of them individually and together. This is my first published fanfic. Eeep! Enjoy! -AA

Ariel runs towards the harbor in the pitch black of a moonless night, three minutes until midnight. She had stalled as long as she could wracking her brain in attempt of anyway to avoid this decision, but really it was a simple one. Leave Storybrooke immediately cutting ties with the people there. If she doesn’t, she would be dooming the inhabitants of her favorite new home to death.

She isn’t even that special to be the reason for such a curse. She hadn’t done anything too remarkable to catch the attention of any local villains. It’s what her specific skill is that would doom everyone. Realm jumping. All mermaids were strongly recommended to return to their realm of birth or else the realm they were in would be sucked into oblivion imploding on itself. Like they have a choice in the matter. Her father had sent a note via seagull that she had to leave immediately. All mermaids would have until midnight to do so, or else.

It was really a clerical issue of the gods, her father had wrote, and they did expect it to be fixed within the next hundred years or so as they were so backed up in paperwork at the moment. Blah blah.

Tears well in her eyes as she nods a final time in acceptance. It is now or never. She turns to look over her shoulder in the direction she had come. From the specific house she had left. This is goodbye. Stepping into the cold, still water, that seems as still as her heart may become, she tries to clear her mind to push the pain of separation away. A last shuddering breath wracks her body, as she slips the bracelet off. Her fin takes the place of her legs, and she slips under the water with barely a ripple showing she had been there.

 

_Thirty minutes ago…_

His bed was a dark, warm cocoon of security and comfort. Sleeping in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, she tilted her face to press a kiss into his bare bicep. The faintest of a squeeze of his arms around her told her that he was likely just falling to sleep. His breath blew evenly over her hair in the rhythm of sleep. With a last wiggle of movement, she settled in and closed her eyes for sleep.

Just a moment later, a tap-tap-tap caught her ear from the direction of the window. She rolled over, still encircled in his arms as she tucked her head under his chin, her mouth finding his neck to place a gentle kiss to a scar she could not see in the dark. This was happiness. After all this time of her pursuit of him, he had let his walls down and pursued her. Trust and acknowledgement of mutual love led to this.

And an incessant tapping on the glass interrupted her fuzzy, sleepy thoughts again. He rolled onto his back bringing his forearm off of her back and over his eyes. His breathing remained that of a sleeping man. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and slipped her dress back on. The air was cool out of the bed and away from his warmth.

Padding over to the window, she squinted in the dark but saw nothing past the glass. She struck a match to relight the candle that had been extinguished not too long before. Opening the window, she held the candle out to see what was amiss when a large white bird flapped too close for comfort. She jerked the candle back in towards herself at the same time a little rolled paper fell into the window and on the sill. The bird was gone.

The window was pulled shut as quietly as she could manage. She set the candle on the sill, then leaned over the paper as her fingers deftly unrolled it. Bird messenger though? Who would do that? This caused her worry. Angling the paper towards the small flame, she read the writing known only to mer-people.

_  
Dearest Ariel-_

_Due to a clerical error of the gods, you must return home before midnight tonight. All mermaids are prohibited from creating portals until after paperwork has been caught up. Otherwise, the gods predict realm implosion. Not to worry. They expect this to be fixed in a hundred years or so._  
_Love always,  
Father _

 

Ariel dropped the paper on the sill as she turned to look in horror towards the bed. Realm implosion? Why must her father be so cryptic? It didn’t matter. Leave now or everyone will die. Tears welled in her eyes. Should she tell her sleeping love or make a run for it? The clock read a startling fifteen minutes until midnight. No time for goodbyes. She estimated it could take her at least fifteen minutes to get to the harbor.

She took two steps to the edge of the bed. Her shins struck the bed frame. She blinked causing the welled tears to spill down her cheeks while a restrained sob forced her to choke the emotion down lest she wake him.

Her eyes roamed his shadowed face in the dim candlelight in hopes of memorizing his features one last time. No strain or worry lined his face in sleep. A tiny quirk at the corner of his lips was reminiscent of the way he smiled just for her.

He continued to lightly snore in peace. Let him sleep peacefully, she thought as her heart crushed into a million pieces and tears obstructed her vision. She knew what would happen. He would close off again when he wakes to find her gone. Better that than dead, her annoying conscience reminded her.

She wanted to kiss him goodbye, but she just can’t. Perhaps just a touch of his hair again. She reached out, but was stopped before she touched him by an obscenely loud tick of the clock’s minute hand, she realized another minute has passed. She hadn’t even known he had a clock up until that minute. Thirteen minutes now. No time. It was always about time, wasn’t it?

 

Chapter 1

  _“Some kind of madness is swallowing me whole.”_

_-Muse_

_Several years later…_

The rope and board swing creak as Ariel leans farther to her right extending the scraping tool to reach the wood boards of the peeling house. She can’t quite reach the spot she needs and huffs in exasperation. “This is just a never ending project,” she grumbles under her breath. With a flick of her wrist, the tool flies through the air to land precisely where she wanted--in the wooden bucket on her porch step.

With succinct movements, she pulls at the rope, which guides through a pulley system lowering the swing. When her feet hit the ground, she stands and pulls the opposite rope drawing the empty swing back in the air against the house. In Storybrooke, it would have been considered a Victorian Era home. But in the Enchanted Forest, it was a peeling, two-story charmer of a home that she had been fixing up for half a decade at least. But she had done it herself and was proud of the progress she had made.

Smiling at the yellow home with its carved woodwork, she pats her hands on her skirt to relieve herself of any paint flecks she may have accumulated, and heads inside to freshen up. It is nearly three o’clock and she has an appointment as she does five days a week.

Grabbing up her basket of vegetables from her own garden, she heads out the door and into town towards the market place. Every day, she sells her excess for portions of meat or other goods she needs.

The next morning, just as she does every day, Ariel is chipping away at the peeling paint on the house. A song has been stuck in her head all day. It has no rhyme or reason to it nor is there any recollection of where she had heard it before. It has remained there teasing her, so she has to get it out through singing.

Jab. Jab. Scrape. Her hands are blistering from this. Odd after all this time of renovating this home that she should be getting blisters again.

A sudden booming resonation hits Ariel like a shockwave. Gripping the ropes, she turns to look behind herself while in the seat, yet nothing seems to have changed. Likely some science experiment or some such thing. Doc Brown’s home on the other side of the tree line divider explodes on a weekly basis. He frequently concocts something or another so random explosions are commonplace. The song comes easily to her again as she sings it absently while she works.

 ~~

Simultaneously in the village nearby, a boom and a final roll of purple, billowing smoke, the prior inhabitants of Storybrooke look about themselves in shock. A few people look down at their clothing to note in surprise a sudden wardrobe change. A change affected by the curse and to suit the realm they now stand in? Perhaps.

Snow’s hair is long again. Her Prince, or rather King Charming stands beside her dressed like royalty as he had long before.

The pirate stands looking about himself until he spots his blonde princess several feet away. No longer sporting her red leather jacket, Emma groans as she notices the lavish dress she wears. Joined by her pirate, the two speak quietly. Her boy runs up to the couple and they both open an arm to him.

An umbrella toting cricket buzzes past the queen who brushes an irritated, yet jewel-covered, manicured hand dismissing the insect. Her hands find her hips as she glares about herself. The green skinned, not so Wicked Witch of the West stands several paces away, her babe held carefully in the crook of her arm as she spots her sister. The two make their way towards each other with newfound smiles.

The red hooded former waitress runs into an embrace with her crossbow-toting granny.

A hoard of dwarves rally and cheer, laughing at each other's oversized ears and noses. One points out an old tavern in which they had built memories decades ago. They hurry along like a gaggle of geese.

Families find each other. Merriment continues. The cynical observer is not amused that at least everyone else is happy.

One individual stands alone watching this scene as everyone meets up with their loved ones. Yet, he knows he is there alone. His only family, the only one he could care about, had not been transported by the curse. She is safe in the Land Without Magic. She is safe. Thankfully, she is safe.

And he is alone again, of course. With disappointed, pursed lips, he turns his back to the Enchanted Forest’s newest inhabitants and their nauseating merriment. With a roll of his wrist, he flips his hat upon his head as he begins to make his way through the crowded market place street. Too much cheer. Too many sighs of relief. Too much everything.

After pulling the edges of his trench coat together as if to seal the gloom outside of his protective walls, he marches away without aim or purpose. Is he to find his way back to the shack in the woods he once resided in with his daughter? Too many memories. Perhaps an inn somewhere or a remote cabin? He stops to look around. It had been, what? Forty years at least since he’d been in this realm. Why this one? Ridiculous curses. If Storybrooke hadn’t been dealt a catastrophe monthly, life would be too dull. Once again in the Enchanted Forest, he is reminded of too many bad memories. His shoulders slump forward in defeat.

A firm hand slaps against his shoulder, causing him to jerk upright in surprise at being approached and touched. “Where are you going, Jefferson? Leaving us so soon?” The chipper voice of the king interrupts his melancholy mood.

Jefferson’s eyes narrow in agitation at the hand on his shoulder. He meets David’s eyes. “Yes,” he says in a clipped tone as he, with two fingers, carefully flings the hand off of his person. “I have nothing here.”

David’s eyes turn soft and sympathetic, ignoring the rudeness of one whom he considered his subject, though the sentiment would not be returned if asked. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way back.”

Shaking his head, Jefferson barks out a humorless laugh with a faux grin before dropping his face back into a serious expression. “Why would you want to go back? You have a kingdom and a family here. I see no motivation for you to do that.”

His eyes are drawn towards Emma to see her waving her arms around while she yells angrily as Hook and Henry aim placating hands and hook towards her. “Looks like your daughter isn’t so happy to be here.” He smirks at that feeling simultaneously amused and disappointed in himself for smirking at Emma’s upset just so he can attempt to spite her father.

David sighs and presses his fingers into his eyes showing the stress he seems to be under. “I know. It’s...complicated. She wasn’t raised here, but maybe in time…”

“In time! Pah! You’re her father. Do what’s best for _her_ , not yourself.” With an irritated glare, he throws his hand up in the air in a sign of dismissal to the king that isn’t his king and stomps off, his boots tapping on the cobbled streets in his wake.

With another defeated sigh, David returns towards his people and his daughter to attempt some semblance of order.


	2. Chapter 2

_“I can’t get these memories out of my mind, and some kind of madness has started to evolve.”_

_-Muse_

 

As Jefferson’s mind churns in irritability, a movement in the distant trees catch his attention. His boots skid to a halt as he tilts his head to get a closer look. A pair of big green eyes dart between the trees and away from sight. Out of curiosity and boredom, Jefferson’s interest is piqued enough to pursue.

When he manages to get close enough, he realizes that it is a child wearing dirt smudged clothing, has tousled dark hair, and no shoes as the child stops to stare at the man in the top hat, then continues to run again. One other strange thing about the child is that he looks familiar. Like himself, in fact. Perhaps it is a trick and he is seeing himself. A trick as if he is back in Wonderland again. Mind games. Play with the hatter. Reverse time, rewind, start again. Tick tock. He shakes his head bringing his hand up to wipe the forming sweat from his brow.

“No,” he says firmly to himself. It has been a long time since he’s thought things like that. No reason to go down that path now. He will see Grace again. Life will... _not_...suck so badly. Or perhaps this is it and he’s stuck. Alone. His shoulders slump as a hopeless feeling weighs down his shoulders. Too heavy.

The child’s movement catches his attention again so he moves that way in a quick pace dodging over fallen logs and burrows. When he thinks he’s close enough for the child to hear, he holds out a hand and speaks loudly to say, “Hey! Wait!” Yet, the child continues this stop-watch-run routine for some time.

The trees are thick. This isn’t a walking path through the trees that the child has chosen. Is this a trap? How could he be so foolish to be lured like this? He stops in his tracks to circle around realizing he has no idea where he is now in the forest.

A clearing through the trees ahead reveals a small home some tenth of a mile away from where he stands. The home has multiple chimneys, each emitting a differently colored plume of smoke. A shed in the rear of the house has one of its two swinging doors propped open to reveal what Jefferson’s eyes tell him is a silver automobile. He shakes his head and blinks at it. The Enchanted Forest does _not_ have cars. He figures he must be getting delirious in this heat and loosens his restrictive scarf a tad. The house may be worth a closer look, but not at the present moment.

He has likely trod half a mile in this pointless pursuit. Yet, as he is about to choose a direction to head and dismiss this elusive child, a distant tune filters through the trees. The child is now nowhere to be seen, he notices. The tune seems to be coming from a certain direction, so he begins walking towards it. A few steps in, he realizes that the tune is familiar. Perhaps from a music box he had at one time. Grace’s music box, perhaps? If he gets closer, perhaps he can know for sure.

Without realizing it, he is drawn towards the song without much effort at all. The Siren’s song lures the hopeless forward to meet his end and only those with the willpower to resist can break free of the call. Yet, with the need to know the answer to the song, Jefferson continues forward without recognizing the maple tree planted at the end of a drive, or the cobblestones laid carefully below his boots, or even the quaint yellow house at the front of the drive. He stops walking and stares up at the source of the song without realizing he is ensnared in the hooks of the song until it stops.

He blinks rapidly as he jerks his head around to take in his surroundings. The trees that circle the yellow house are much taller than he remembered. The house itself looks in less disrepair than he would have expected after all this time. And perched up high is the singer with her long red hair trailing down her back and in an oddly familiar blue and linen colored dress as she picks at the chipping paint just below the second story roof.

His breath catches in his throat as he stares. Had he died? He must be dead, he concludes. She has been long gone for decades, yet there she is at her house. Priscilla. Grace’s mother. Pressing his fingers to his pulse in his neck, he feels the tell-tale thump of life. Not dead. He will see Grace again then. Then who is _that?_

 ~~

After another hour of scraping at the paint, Ariel stops singing to wipe her sweating forehead with her sleeve. It is such a hot day that her head is pounding from heat exposure and likely dehydration. She has neglected to bring a canteen of water with her. Her body had been crying out for water, but she wants to finish this part of the house before it was time to go to market. Just a little more, she keeps telling herself.

A loud clearing of a throat catches Ariel off guard to the point of nearly falling out of her swing. Once righted, she looks behind herself to see who had come to her home. No one ever came there. Not ever.

A man stands nearly below her. His hand shields his eyes from the intense sun as he peers up at her. Glaring at the uninvited visitor--for he could only be looking for trouble coming out to her home uninvited--Ariel tries to give him the once over. He wears typical clothing of one of the better off inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest. He wears a long trench coat sort and carries something oddly shaped in his left hand at his thigh. She can’t quite make out what it is. “May I help you?” she calls out a bit hoarsely with her dry throat. He had almost caused her to fall after all.

“ _Pah_ -rdon me…” he starts and pauses. His head tilts to the side as he takes a slight step forward.

Ariel’s breath catches in her throat at the words spoken. A tremor runs up her hand that is gripping the seat’s rope. Her vision swims with her headache and she nearly does fall out of the seat in that moment.

“Be careful up there! What are you doing anyway?” His voice is demanding, yet she can abstractly hear the concern lacing the alarm. She knows exactly what that tone means. She had spent some time studying it years ago. Even though his face is hidden in shadow by his hand, she knows exactly what expression that face is making, too. Squinting and disbelieving, obstinate and possessive.

But can it really be him? she wonders.

Her breath hitches in her throat. She can’t actually breathe, she realizes just before her eyes roll up causing her to fall from her perch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot more angsty and airing of grievances, I suppose. I do hope you're enjoying the read so far. Thanks for the kudos! -AA

_ “And when I look back at all the crazy fights we had _

_ Like some kind of madness was taking control.” _

_ -Muse _

First this person is scraping at  _ his  _ house, and then she has the nerve to fall and nearly land on him. He would have surely been crushed had his reflexes not been as quick as they are. He drops his hat that he had been holding--and that is not something he takes lightly--and the red headed flier is caught. He stumbles backwards a few feet, but otherwise keeps his balance. He couldn’t have just let her splat on the ground after all. 

One glance of the woman’s face has him reeling in shock. Though their features are similar, she is certainly not Priscilla. Here she is! After all this time. No word from her when she left, and he should happen to find her at  _ his _ house and in his arms. The nerve! He ought to just drop her in the dirt and go into his  house.

But it is her... 

No, she had left him. There had been a reason, yet she hadn’t bothered to share it. She just left. 

Grumbling, he takes the steps up the porch and backs his way into the open door frame careful not to let her head or feet hit the frame. He knows where the couch would be. It is his house after all--or had been once upon a time since he had not been there in the past 40 plus years. And with another roll of his eyes, his conscience reminds him that he was forced to abandon it for smaller quarters after he couldn’t afford it any longer. 

A quick glance around shows that the room contains mostly the same furniture as he had left it, only it is now in all the wrong places. He narrows his eyes at her. She had messed that up as well. Everything had its place and there had been a reason for it. Yet, where the couch is does actually make sense. 

He lays her down on the sofa, gently setting her head on a pillow and tucking her hands across her chest so her arm wouldn’t fall from the cushions. 

Looking up, a drawing catches his eye. Both of his eyebrows raise. “What in the hell…?” He plucks it from the table behind the couch and studies the pencil strokes depicting three people. He was clearly the subject along with a very clearly drawn Ariel. And there was a male child between them. If his eyebrows could have raised any higher, they would have.

Glaring down at Ariel again, he wants to demand an answer for all of this. 

His eyes make their way back to the drawing of the child. It could have been a perfect drawing of himself as a child, but that isn’t what this appeared to be. 

He storms through the house snatching up randomly placed drawings, each with varying stages of age of the child. From the two looking lovingly upon an infant, to them looking at each other over a toddler, to the child hugging the two of them around the necks.  This is just wrong. Is there a child? Or had she become an eccentric? Eccentric, he decides as he takes the easier conclusion to accept. 

It takes a lot of control, but he does not ball up the drawings. He places them gently, and with much strain, down on a table. He could search  _ his _ house for other disturbances she has caused, but no. He wants to see her face when she wakes. 

Pulling an arm chair back to it’s original location, he sits with his ankle propped up on the opposite knee. His fingers steepled in front of his nose. Glaring at her to will her awake, he sits and storms. 

She had _ left him _ . Right when he had finally accepted what they seemed to have had. Right when he finally opened his heart to her and let her in. She saw who he was and he  _ thought _ she had loved him for it. Not scorned him for his past mistakes like everyone else does. Things he had hated himself over, she had loved. She had led him to believe there was hope for him in finding redemption. He had even entertained the idea that he loved her back for he surely thought she had loved him. 

And then the night they had shared in his bed… Closing his eyes, he breathes heavily through his nose, pressing his forehead into his steepled fingers. The feelings of loss when he had woken to find she was gone swamp him again. Had he done something wrong? Had she been kidnapped? Or had she just left? Was she the type to gradually build up a close friendship, slip random kisses to him when he least expected it, then sleep with him once and be done with him without another word? He hadn’t thought so, but when the sun rose and she didn’t return… No sign of her at her house… No sign of her ever. Well, he wasn’t exactly the forgiving type. 

He levels his gaze upon her sleeping form on the couch. She barely looks any older than he remembers. It has been six years since he had seen her. Leaning closer he looks at her hands. They had been delicate before. Now, they are dirt smudged and he can see the blisters in the curve of her palm. 

She has been working on the house. Looking around the living room again, he sees that she had made improvements on the inside as well. The crack that had been in the plaster is gone. The room is painted rather than wallpapered. The hardwood floor had been restained. Hmm…

Her clothing may have befitted the upper-middle class of the Enchanted Forest one one time yet now looks as if it had been worn repeatedly and repatched here and there dropping her to working class. He gapes at the particular dress she is wearing. It had been his wife’s! She must have found it left behind in one of the closets after he and Priscilla had been desolate enough to have needed to move away into a smaller home. 

Ariel’s hand twitches which catches his attention, and he narrows his eyes again at her in preparation. He realizes his heart is racing. This is a moment he had wanted for years. To ask ‘why’ and ‘how dare you?’ But is that the right reaction now? Doubt creeps across his expression as he looks down between his bent knees towards his boots and the worn rug below his feet. A small gasp of a sound has him looking up again and all of his worries vacate his mind for the moment. Looking into her green eyes, he sees shock and disbelief. He begins to reach a hand out to comfort her as he once would have done, but stops himself. Curling his fingers back into his palm, his elbow finds its way back to his knee. His lips firm into a thin line and a hard look enters his eyes.

Ariel props herself up on her elbow as she stares at him. Sitting up quickly, she had noticed how he had almost reached for her, then retreated. “Jefferson?” she asks timidly. He isn’t sitting close enough and the sofa is just a hair too far away for her to reach for him. 

He doesn’t answer her. He can’t yet. The sound of her voice saying his name takes him back to easier times. He dips his head closing his eyes and draws his bottom lip in with his teeth as he avoids eye contact with her for a moment so that he can collect his resolve and give her the verbal tongue lashing she deserves.

Ariel thinks he looks angry. He has the right to feel that way. She had spent many a sleepless night wondering how he was doing, if he would ever forgive her, and if she would ever be forgiven. Certainly, she didn’t deserve forgiveness. 

She slips off of the couch and sits in front of him, her shins planted on the rug as she sits upon her heels. Jefferson glares at her quizzically and leans back away from her to keep her at an acceptable distance. 

Very gently, with slow movements, so he could deny her if he intended to, she reaches her hands towards his knees and places her palms there as she looks up at him. 

Well, this is certainly not what he had expected. With a low tone deepening his voice, Jefferson speaks up. “What are you doing?”

Ariel gulps and looks down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “You have no reason to forgive what I did. Leaving you without a word of explanation--”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Though his inflection is calm, his expression betrays him. Too many feelings. He should get up and leave. But this  _ is _ his house.  And her hands are firmly on his knees. 

Ariel nods rapidly in acceptance. “I am so sorry, Jefferson. It was the last thing I wanted to do--”

“Love me or the leaving me part?” He hadn’t meant to say that, but since they are having Outburst Time, why the hell not? He is frankly pissed. 

Ariel gasps and juts her head back. “No! I didn’t want to leave at all! I left because I  _ do _ love you!”

He groans, rolling his eyes and twisting his head to look anywhere but at her. Why doesn’t she let go of his knees? He’d like very much to leave.

Ariel raises up from her sitting position so that she’s still on her knees, but closer to eye level to him. “You don’t know what happened, but if you’d let me explain--”

“Maybe I don’t want to know!” His cool is starting to slip, he notices. He is starting to not give a damn. She keeps talking. How could he have forgotten how talkative and pushy she is?

“Then why are you here? How did you even get here?” She shakes her head in confusion.

“This is  _ my house _ ! You changed it!” He juts his hand out pointing at the no longer cracked plaster. “I liked it the way it was before! You had to interfere and mold it to the way that suits you. You can’t just let things be! You have to meddle and work your way in ‘til it’s all pliable in your hands, and  _ wants _ ...” His voice trails off as he looks at something that must seem more interesting at the moment. That had been more talking than he was usually prone to and he looks even more displeased now than before if that is possible.

“Wait… What are we talking about here?” Her fingers find their way to his stubborn chin and he allows her to move his face back to front and center. Maybe she does mold things to suit her. He carefully removes her fingers from his face.

“I’m talking about my house!”

“I know it’s your house. I discovered that the first day I found it. It was dilapidated and full of wildlife. I fixed it up.” 

“Why? Why this house?” He shakes his head in exasperation.

“Because all of the other ones were taken!” She shakes her head back getting flustered at him.

Jefferson grins at her without humor. This is the fiery red-head he once knew. Not the pleading woman that had been seated before him. Grabbing his face and yelling back… She hasn’t really changed that much, has she?

His eyes drift over her head to where the first drawing he had found had been sitting before he moved it. Ariel looks over her shoulder to follow his gaze and she stills when she realizes what he had been looking towards which is not there. “Um…” She looks back at Jefferson. 

His lips are pursed in a disappointed expression as he considers her reactions. He can see the thoughts running through her and waits for a response. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter answers a few questions you may have been wondering about. It certainly may for our Jeffers'. Little less angsty, maybe? Please let me know what you think and about the lil surprise tucked in there! Thanks for reading! --AA  
> (I edited this chapter a day after posting it so there is an extra little paragraph in there as they are walking towards the village.)

_“Yes I have known I can be wrong,_

_Maybe I’m too headstrong.”_

_-Muse_

And he knows, Ariel figures. With a nod, she presses a hand into his knee to help herself up from the floor and walks away from him. She finds the stack of drawings easily enough on the table and shuffles through them to see which ones he had found. Her fingers trace over the happy expression on his face there. She had drawn him as she had remembered him looking at her that last day they had been together. Is that man still there?

With a sigh, she drops the stack on the table and walks into her bedroom to retrieve the drawing she had done the night before of just him.

He still does not have any silver in his hair as she would have guessed. A darkened finger smudges the shadows here and there of his hair, his jawline. Her palm covers the face as if to protect her heart from his eyes that look straight at her. At one time, they had shared something that had left her breathless at his touch. Why does she do this to herself?

She picks up the pencil and shifts his eyebrows and forehead so that he is giving her more of a glare now to match how he had looked at her moments before. Satisfied with that, she drops the paper and pencil on the bed and wanders over to the armoire to retrieve a shawl and wraps it around her shoulders, then slips a pair of shoes on. None of these clothes are hers. They were found in the house six years ago and she had worn them down.

Exiting the room, she gives Jefferson a pensive glance. “I have to go into the village now. Come if you’d like. Or stay. It is your house like you said.” She disappears around a corner towards the kitchen to retrieve a covered basket and marches out the front door.

Before too long, she hears heavy footsteps following after. He sidles up next to her and glares at her, but she ignores him. “Why are you _leaving_?” he says with emphasis.

~~

“Life doesn’t stop because you’ve come here. I have responsibilities.” She’s completely ignoring the intonation of his saying ‘leaving.’ She hadn’t given him an explanation after all.

Jefferson narrows his eyes and juts his head forward as he speaks. “Why aren’t you talking non-stop? You’ve changed. Did you tire of me? Is that why you left me?” His voice is demanding and he grabs her by the arm to stop her progress. Jefferson getting worked up is a rare occurrence. Something major must push a man like him to such extents. He knows it and by the concerned look in her eyes, he can see that she knows it which irks him further.

Despite this, Ariel jerks her arm out of his grip just as the village clock begins to sound off the hour. “I’m running late! I don’t have time to stop and talk.”

“Then walk and talk. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He has done too much talking and has made himself vulnerable in the process, so he seals his lips shut in a grimace as he looks towards the direction they are headed. Having squishy feelings is too bothersome, so he strives for irritability.

Ariel glances up at him then and gives him a sad look. Her lip wobbles slightly before she pushes the expression away into one of determination and looks ahead again as she continues towards the village.

Jefferson keeps his eyes on her face, even noticing the lip wobble, but only narrows his eyes at that, too. Is she doing this to get under his skin? Why isn’t she talking? Ariel is a talker and she isn’t talking. Feeling very frustrated and not in control, he wants to yell at her. To direct the past six years of hurt and anger at her as she deserves. She’d likely hear him and let him, too, he figures. He did know her very well at one time.

Because he knew her, he knows what a non-talking Ariel is likely feeling. A happy Ariel talks non-stop then apologizes for rambling. A quiet Ariel is unhappy.

She had told him herself about her past; her voice stolen from her during the original curse. It had been partially due to her love for a man that she came to realize later hadn’t actually loved her the way she deserved. Blank stares and empty promises. What was name? Er--something. Jefferson frowns at this memory and lifts a hand to whisk it away swatting at the air as if an insect pesters him.

But because he knew her so well, he also knows that pushing at her isn’t likely to sway her. She is as stubborn as he is and he sees that that trait at least hasn’t changed.

When they reach the village, the town is bustling with more people than there had been in a long time thanks to the arrival of Storybrooke's people. Ariel glances at Jefferson in surprise. “All these people! Did they come here with you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs indifferently. They are not his concern.

"I'm running so late!" Ariel, fretting, begins to run towards a bakery up ahead. She steps up on the wooden sidewalk and enters the shop with her basket. Some arguing is heard inside, but it doesn’t last long.

Jefferson stands outside waiting, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets as he looks around. This blasted village is the last place he had ever thought he’d venture into again. It had been such a long time. So much bad history. His eyes wander towards the market booths where Grace had begged him for a rabbit toy that he simply couldn’t afford. The reason which led him into losing her…

A tugging on his jacket tail brings him out of his thoughts. He looks over his shoulder to see the very same young boy that had lured him through the woods! He is at the height of Jefferson’s elbow and looking up at him. He quirks an eyebrow giving him a once over. “What is it?” he asks indifferently thinking the child must be a beggar. “I don’t have any of this land’s money on me.”

“Are you one of the new arrivals?” the boy asks as he observes Jefferson’s clothing.

Jefferson turns to face the child better and tilts his head in consideration. “I am.” There is something about this curly dark haired child and his eyes that sets off an alarm bell in his head. His eyes are very green, yet the shape of them… Jefferson’s eyebrows rise and his jaw slackens. This boy that had lured him towards Ariel’s house--no, towards _his_ house--is the one from the drawings.

A movement from the doorway of the bakery catches his attention. He sees Ariel standing there with an equally shocked expression crossing her features as she watches him and this boy.

“Mama!” the boy calls and runs to her. That word sends a shock wave down Jefferson’s spine. The boy looks to be about five years old.

“Hell’s bells,” he utters, his jaw slacking and his eyebrows raising to an alarming height. The boy in the drawing! He had wanted to believe Ariel had just found a childhood picture of his within the house and drawn him. Some lunatic thing to do. Deep down, he had known it was her child. And his. “Holy hell…”

“Jefferson…” Ariel starts and takes a step closer to him. Abstractly, he notices the basket she has been carrying is now empty. She had sold whatever it had contained. To support this child… His child?

The boy takes the basket from Ariel and she thanks him with a pat on his shoulder. “Jefferson…” she says again.

He stands there blinking in shock, his sight trained on the child’s features, scrutinizing, attempting to find anything that means the child isn’t really his. Grace is his only child and he never expected to have more. Words were not forming on his lips as his jaw remains clenched tightly.

Ariel takes this as a sign to approach and she gently places her hand on his arm with a questioning look in her eyes. He isn’t backing away. “This is my son, Arison. Your son.”

After sending the boy ahead to complete his chores before dinner, Jefferson leans in close to Ariel, an intense look in his eyes.

“He’s human…”

She gives him a look as if he has suddenly sprouted rabbit ears. “Well, of course he is.”

“Does he… change? Like you do?”

A softer look of understanding takes over the incredulous expression she had given him. “No. He was conceived by two human parents. He’s human.”

“Oh.” Jefferson stands there blinking at the retreating, skipping figure of the barefoot child.

“And… I don’t do that anymore. Change, that is. I can’t. And besides, there is one thing about him that is different. He doesn’t know what he can do…” Her voice is nervous and quiet as she looks around themselves. “Come on.” She pulls at his arm to lead him into the privacy of the woods on the path towards her house.

He had been about to ask her why she can’t change anymore when she changed the subject on him leaving his mind wondering how this child--and he has to force himself to think the words _my son--_ is different and what he could do that is making her so secretive and quiet all of a sudden. Ariel is not typically quiet.

“On the day he was born…” Ariel shifts a thin chain that she wears around her neck, then moves her hand to the bracelet that was tucked out of view within her sleeve.

‘So, she does still wear it…’ he thinks. “Tell me. I want to know.” He had missed the birth of his son. He had missed years! Why is this a common theme in his life? Watching her expression with eager eyes, he listens intently while his emotions threaten the safety walls he struggles to uphold.

Ariel braces herself and nods. “When he was born, a portal opened just in front of me and sucked up the midwife that was delivering the baby. We never found out what happened to her.”

Just like Ariel to jump right to the climax of a story with no build up, he muses. “A portal? Can you do that?”

She shakes her head. “No. I can only do it in mermaid form and underwater. And like I said, I don’t… can’t do that anymore.”

“Why not?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “It’s a long story. But, this portal. I didn’t do it. Arison did.”

“As an infant?” He raises his lip in half disbelief, eyes squinted.

Ariel nods as she apparently recognizes that disbelieving expression of his. “Yes. The attending doctor witnessed it. I had gained his trust when I first got here. An unwed mother-to-be isn’t exactly going to make any friends. He helped me come up with a story that wouldn’t get me labeled as the town… well, you know.”

“What story?” He narrows his eyes wondering if he should be defensive.

 

_‘The madman, he probably had killed her, hat obsessed loner… He had kidnapped the sheriff and her mother after all…’_

_His mind wanders to six and five years ago, the time he was blamed for Ariel’s disappearance. He had even been arrested. Not that people talking negatively about him was exactly different. He was pretty used to that. Yet, for that to have happened while he was in shock, confused about where she had gone or had she been taken, and he hurt in her absence. If she had left him, he had done something wrong. Why else would someone with such a bubbly, happy personality leave with no explanation? Or had she finally come to her senses at what a madman he was. It only took their sleeping together for her to realize that._

_In his grief, he refused to answer any questions on what had happened to Ariel. He didn’t know anyway. They would make up their minds on what he had surely done no matter what he said._

_The sheriff had seen through his blank stares, glares, and broodiness. When she had shown that she would believe him if he would tell the truth, he recalled that she had that nifty superpower of hers. She was the Savior after all. And she made an excellent point that if he would simply talk to her, she could help find Ariel if she was missing. Good point._

_And he did want to know if she was safe, not harmed in anyway. Despite himself, he preferred to believe she had ran instead of being harmed in any way._

_So he spilled and told her what he knew and what had happened. Not too long after, he had been released. But the taunting from the townsfolk did not let up. They would not forget. Impressions are hard to shake._

_When he and the sheriff found no signs of foul play, she had reluctantly suggested that Ariel may have just left. He eventually told himself that the sheriff’s conclusion was true. He believed she had used him, had her needs fulfilled, grown tired of him and left him. That was easier._

_The small paper scroll that had been left by the burnt out candle on the window sill was shoved in a drawer and forgotten after Belle was unable to translate it._

_Once again, he stopped leaving the house again. Just like before. The recluse’s only meaning in life was raising his Grace. Devoting all of his time and energy on her happiness got him through each day. Seeing her smile happily was all he needed in life._

_The day had come when she graduated high school. She had grown up and showed an interest in furthering her education. It was the most difficult decision he had ever made in letting her go, but her happiness was all he wanted. He knew he would be giving her her best chance by letting her go. At least she had escaped the curse._

 

Ariel’s shrug snaps Jefferson back to the present. His hand is in his pocket gripping the cellular phone that Grace had given him just before she moved away. It will not work from the Enchanted Forest. He frowns heavily before looking back up at Ariel. He notices her discomfort and has to recall what they had been talking about.

“I’m really sorry about leaving, Jefferson. I had little choice.” Her expression is worried as she bites her lip.

Jefferson shakes his head in frustration. “Let’s just stick to the main topic here. Arison. And why that name?”

“Ariel and Jefferson.” She shrugs again with a faint smile.

His expression softens. “Oh. I like it.”  

With a beaming smile at him, she continues. “Anyway, the doctor kept the portal occurrence quiet. A child that can create a portal with a thought is dangerous to himself and to others. He could attract the wrong kind of attention. Luckily, I live in a house off the beaten path and next door to the village scientist--which people try to avoid anyway--so I was mostly left alone. Arison doesn’t know what he can do because I don’t want him disappearing on me. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.” She gives him a look at that remark, regret still heavy in her features.

Jefferson nods in understanding. He flips his finger back and forth as he says, “And why can’t you turn mermaid any longer? This is why you never came back to Storybrooke?” The last sentence was asked so quietly, Ariel had to strain her ears to hear it.

“Yes. And for Arison. I wouldn’t leave him. He doesn’t even know what I used to do.”

“I’m listening…”

“The reason why I left Storybrooke. I got a letter that night after we…” Her cheeks slightly blush which causes a smug expression to cross Jefferson’s face. “Uh. A bird actually delivered the note. A seagull. It was from my father. I didn’t want to take the chance--”

“--On me. You couldn’t take a chance on me. I can realm jump. Why would you need to?” His patience is quickly dissipating.

“That isn’t fair! I didn’t want to take a chance that I could end up killing you and the whole realm! I realized after I left that I should have woken you to tell you. I thought you would make me stay and risk your life. I couldn’t…” Her fingers find their way into the fold of his jacket as she pleads for him to understand. “I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have made that decision for you.”

With pursed lips, he looks down at her hands, then back at her. “I found the note. You left it on the windowsill.” His voice is quiet as his eyes watch hers. Not that he could read it. It had been written in some indecipherable language.

She removes her fingers from him and takes a steadying breath. “I realized I was pregnant after being here for a couple of weeks. I knew. And it broke my heart that I couldn’t tell you.”

“Fine, fine.” He is not fine. Looking over her head and anywhere but at her, he can’t really process all of this. “So we have a portal-creating son that is a danger to himself and to others and he has no idea.”

Ariel shakes her head. “He’s been protected here after the Sheriff incident.”

“What--?”

~~

She interrupts him in order to explain. “His birth was not the only occasion that he opened a portal.” She fidgets with her hands as she looks around themselves again to make sure they are still alone. Stepping closer to him so she could whisper, she continues. “Arison was about two years old when the Sheriff came by to collect our taxes. I didn’t have any money at all. I traded vegetables we grow for other things we needed. But the Sheriff wanted coin payment.” She looks away from his face then so she won’t see the narrow eyed look he is surely giving her.

“He grabbed me and shook me. Demanded that if I couldn’t pay with coin, I would have to pay other ways.” Why is she telling him this? Her face burned with embarrassment, but she must continue, yet still avoids looking at him. “I must have screamed or something because Arison was there and he started screaming and hitting the Sheriff with a bat. He hit my son! Arison…” She wipes a tear from her cheek and crossed her arms. “He opened a portal right by the Sheriff’s head, and before I knew it, he was sucked up in it. His tax collections were still in our house. I couldn’t say anything to anyone. How could I explain that? So I hid the money and only used it when we were in dire need. We don’t even use it for clothing. Just essentials. No one suspected us. No one ever came around looking.”

Jefferson had been so quiet that she turns her face to glance at him when she sees his face is red and he’s glaring more angrily than she had ever seen. Ariel blanches at this. “Do you think ill of me now because I was glad he was gone?”

“Ill of _you_? Of course not! I would have killed him myself had I been here. Bastard.” Acting on impulse, Jefferson reaches for Ariel’s arms to gently draw her another half foot closer and embraces her in a hug.

Ariel stands there stiffly in shock as his arms are around her. She expected a verbal tongue lashing, but why? This was Jefferson. He was the one that had been harped on constantly in Storybrooke. He would understand. She should have known and trusted that. Slowly, she raises her arms up to place her palms on his back. “Thank you,” she whispers closing her eyes. There is no room for questioning if they are okay again. It doesn't matter. He's there and he has the opportunity to get to know his son now. This is the moment she had been yearning for most.

At this whispered gratitude, Jefferson jerks slightly then tenses. Ariel catches the guarded look in his eyes when he drops his arms and takes a step back. Two steps forward, one step back. It’s alright, she tells herself. She’s been through this before with him and her guilty conscience doesn’t allow her to dwell on hopes and dreams that often when it involves him anyway. _What a crock_ , her conscience pipes in. She smiles anyway in encouragement for the both of them whether he wants it or not. It's just who she is. “I’ve got to make dinner. Would you like to join us?” She starts walking in the direction of her house--well, his house, really.

~~

He stands still for a moment weighing his options. He has no money or anywhere else to sleep. All of the other new arrivals have homes there already most likely. Where else could he go?

Adopting a defeated expression and a slumping of shoulders, he sighs. “Okay.”

Ariel quirks a grin over her shoulder at him. “Good! I traded a bunch of vegetables from our yard for some bread. Arison took it home already.”

He had thought the basket was empty, but evidently not. “ _Our_ yard?”

“Well yes. Arison and I have a garden. And it’s your land, so it’s your garden too. Our yard.”

Jefferson finds himself walking to the home he had once shared with Priscilla and Grace which now somewhat belonged to Ariel and Arison. He notices again that Ariel is wearing one of Priscilla’s dresses. From behind, she could even look like Priscilla. The same red hair, same body type and height. Same eye color. Yet different accents. Most definitely different personalities. Priscilla hadn’t annoyed or hurt him as badly as Ariel had. Except when Priscilla had died...

He sighs rather irritably and rolls his head around on his neck. This is not at all the day he had expected to have when he awoke in Storybrooke. But when has anything in his life gone as expected?

A slight shuffle of branches and an explosion of birds through the treetops alerts them that someone may be watching. Jefferson glances over his shoulder in that direction but sees nothing out of place.

Ariel walks ahead of Jefferson towards the house. He is walking slowly without the least inclination of purpose yet Ariel continues her brisk pace to eventually disappear from his sight within the house. 

Jefferson eventually makes it to the house in his own time. But upon hearing the frantic clucking from the back of the house, he walks around instead of through. Seeing the boy’s focus on a particularly feisty hen as he chases it through the yard is intriguing. He sees a driven determination there that reminded him of Ariel. Jefferson leans against the side of the house as he watches.

The hen is finally caught as the boy pins it with his chest and arms. More squawking and struggling sounds are made as the dust flies in a plume over the scrambling child. Jefferson frowns and rights himself from leaning against the house. Should he intervene? He would swear he could hear the boy uttering curses under his breath. Perhaps the bird is pecking at him. An audible crunch sound stills any subsequent noises for a few moments. “Ah,” he mutters under his breath.

He looks up at the two story house to see that the back side had received some of Ariel’s handy work as well. These two had been fixing up this house themselves. She had said no one ever bothers them at this house. It must be true that it’s just the two of them. He puzzles over the internal satisfaction that he feels at this and scratches his forehead, then touches his lips. They had been alone all this time. At least Ariel had the boy for company.

He feels the separation from his daughter again at that thought. His eyes settle on Arison again as the boy smiles in satisfaction at his kill. He stands from the dirt holding the hen by the neck, then begins walking towards the house. He stops when he spots Jefferson standing there, arms crossed and scowling at himself as if he was having an internal conversation.

The boy tilts his head to the side in consideration studying this man as he walks up to him, hen nearly dragged behind him as if it was a limp doll. Looking up and down Jefferson to take in his attire, posture, facial expressions, and physical size, the boy’s brow furrows.

Jefferson eyes him back with nearly a mirrored expression. What is he doing? Judging the Mad Hatter? What had Ariel told the boy about him? What story did she and the doctor come up with about his absence? He was about to speak up, but the boy started first.

“So. You’re my papa.” Not a question, but a statement. “Mama drew you so I’d know you.”

Jefferson keeps motionless. He isn’t sure what to feel for this boy yet. He knows nothing of him and isn’t even sure what his feelings for the boy’s mother are anymore. He had spent too many years cursing her name.

“Why did you come here?”

The innocence of such a question is not lost on Jefferson, but feeling particularly under scrutinization, he shoots back with, “Why did your mother come here?”

The boy shrugs, unaffected by Jefferson's sharp bite, and walks past him to an outdoor table to begin plucking the chicken. Jefferson looks behind himself wondering what is going on. This child caught and killed a hen and is now plucking it? He certainly had never done such a thing. With a scratch of his head, he considers asking Ariel what the hell kind of parenting this is, but… she had said they had kept to themselves. The garden… wearing Priscilla’s old clothes. They don’t have much, just like she had said. But Ariel is managing and has stayed proud.

With a put-upon sigh, he walks into the house to find Ariel scrubbing potatoes. She looks up at his entrance and gives him an easy smile, but otherwise continues right along with her task. She isn’t going to initiate conversation, is she? She would make him do it. “Do you need help?”

“Oh, sure. Why don’t you… set the table? Or help Arison with the hen? Or, if you want, you still have clothes here. You could freshen up if you want.”

He looks down at himself wondering what is wrong with his clothes. He does seem a tad dusty. “Fine.” He had left clothes here?

Making his way to the bedroom that had once been his, he sees that this room was also shifted around. The bed is now on the opposite wall to the door instead of to the left. The armoire is now in the corner. Grumbling, he starts towards the armoire, but pauses at the sight of a sheet of paper on the bed. Two steps shorten the distance as he plucks it up. It is only of himself this time scowling at the viewer. Is this how she sees him? His shoulders slump again. It is the only drawing that he has seen that portrays him in a negative image. He thinks on that a moment and drops the paper face down on the bed, shaking his head and moving towards the armoire. Within it, he sees a small selection of dresses hanging up. Certainly not filled as he had expected. Two jackets of his hung on the far right, faded yet clean looking. He tilts his head in consideration of it as his heart skips a beat. Priscilla’s clothes. Now Ariel’s. And his. Shutting his eyes blocks this sight from wounding him further. Again, he questions why he is here. He should leave. But his hand finds its way to one of the jackets. The smooth velvet is nice. Not as nice as what he owns in Storybrooke. Regina had set him up in a rich estate there to taunt him in finery while his daughter had been separated from him. But this simple jacket meant more to him than any of his fine clothes in Storybrooke. It was from a simpler, happier time.

He slips the jacket off the wooden hanger and holds it up. Priscilla had bought it for him. With a shuddering breath, he turns to toss it on the bed. Bending at the waist, he observes a couple of soft cotton shirts and a pair of slacks and a scarf folded on the bottom of the armoire. These would all do. He nods, completely avoiding focusing on when he acquired those. He remembers. It isn’t something he can forget. Not ever.

Wandering to the bathroom, he groans as he spots a familiar covered box. He knows it contains a chamber pot. No plumbing in the Enchanted Forest. “Ughh. Ariel!” he calls. Before he can regret that, she shows up in the doorway, a curious expression lighting her face. “No running water. I forgot.”

She laughs with an amused jingle to her voice and shakes her head. “Nope. But there is a well as you may remember. Draw up your water and I can boil it for you if you want a bath.”

“I’ll do it later.”

“So grumpy.” She pokes him on the arm and shuffles out of the bathroom and back towards the kitchen.

Grumpy? “Pshhh.” He sighs again. This would be a lot easier if he was alone.

Begrudgingly, he decides helping the boy is probably his best bet. Adding chicken plucking to his list of skills, he is a bit proud of himself. He keeps conversation to a minimum and so does the boy. He half expected Ariel’s child to be just as talkative as she is, but that is not the case. “Why don’t you talk that much?” he asks the boy.

Arison shrugs focusing on finishing up the last few pluckings.

“Are you in school?”

“Yes, sir. First year.”

Jefferson nods and thinks of Grace in her first year of college. “You have a half sister, you know.”

The boy nods. “Yes, I know. Grace. Mama told me about her.”

“Did she now?” His hackles raise a little at that.

“Mhm. She said she’s really smart and sweet, and that she knows she’s loved just as much as I am.” For a five year old boy, he has sufficiently verbally struck Jefferson in the heart.

He clears his throat and shifts his attention elsewhere. “True.” The boy seemed smart and intuitive on his own. Ariel had raised him well. Giving her a little credit was due, he figures as he taps a finger to his chin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story time, loves. Or--ahem--rather, a history lesson perhaps? -AA

_“And now I need to know is this real love or is it just madness keeping us afloat?”_

_-Muse_

Over dinner, it is quiet. They eat in mostly silence. Jefferson avoids eye contact with either of them. It seems to Ariel that he’s very uncomfortable. Distractions, perhaps, are in order. She quirks an eyebrow at Arison and taps his elbow. “What did you learn today?”

“Not much. I asked about some of the things Doc Brown is working on and I was told to focus on the lesson at hand.” The boy stares at his potatoes, jabbing them absently with his fork.

“What things?”

“He’s always talking about why his flux capster isn’t working.”

“Flux _capacitor_ ,” Jefferson corrects keeping his eye contact at his food.

Both sets of eyes move to him in surprise.

“What? It sounds like you’re talking about a flux capacitor. Time travel stuff. It’s in a movie.”

“What’s a movie?” Arison asks scrunching up his nose.

Jefferson turns a disappointed look to Ariel waving a hand out to her in a questioning gesture. “You haven’t told him what movies are?”

“Why should I? There is nothing like that here and I’ve never seen one anyway.”

“You’re always talking about other realms and things--” He stops talking when Ariel’s eyes widen in shock. Oh. He wasn’t supposed to say that. He slides a cautious glance at the boy.

“Oh, like the fairy tales? Yeah, mama tells me stories all the time.”

“Fairy tales?” Jefferson looks at Ariel with narrowed eyes. _History. History. History. Not fairy tales._ He clears his throat and slips a finger into his scarf as if to loosen it a smidgen.

Ariel levels a ‘cool it’ look at him with pursed lips. “I tell him bedtime stories and I write them down in a book for him so he can read them later if he wants.”

“It’s called, _Once Upon a Time_.” Arison forks another bite of chicken.

Jefferson glares pointedly at Ariel giving her an _Are you serious?_ look.

She shrugs. “Bedtime stories are important. It’s like history and creative writing all mixed together.”

“History.”

“Yep.” She keeps eye contact with him as if to dare him to say something else.

Arison eyes the two of them glaring at each other, but keeps quiet.

 

_“And now I have finally seen the end and I’m not expecting you to care.”_

_-Muse_

That night, Jefferson leans in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, to listen to Ariel’s 'fairy tales.' On this night, Arison asks to be told the story of the mermaid.

_The mermaid’s name is Arla. She found her way to a new realm when a storm hit a small town in the Land without Magic. All mermaids are allowed to visit land with legs for two days during the full moon each month. She was greeted by a friendly dwarf though he seemed to have a certain cynicism about himself. The dwarf kindly showed her around the village and introduced her to new people and new foods. She made many friends and only a couple of enemies. She was a friendly, happy sort of person and wanted to explore new places._

_One dark night, she needed help finding something very important. A magical token that allowed mermaids to stay on land. If she didn’t find it, she would have had to leave the land forever and never return. A man that wore a particularly nice and very out of time top hat showed up to help her. Top hats in this realm were considered old fashioned, you see. He was a stubborn man that didn’t seem inclined to help, but Arla was very desperate for help. He helped her and promised to be friends with him for life._

_The second and last day she was allowed to be on land, a witch came to the town and threatened to kill the man with the hat. Arla and one of her new friends helped the man defeat the witch and save the man’s life. Shortly after that, they ate something called hamburgers and even though the man didn’t say so, Arla could tell he was softening up--_

Jefferson snorts causing Ariel to pause and look over her shoulder at him. An amused grin lights her expression. “ _Pah_ -rdon me. Continue.”

She’s talking. Telling a story, but she is talking. This is like music to Jefferson’s ears. He had been waiting for her to let loose and pour out all of her thoughts as they came to her, as he was accustomed to her doing. Or had been accustomed to. When she didn’t talk, he felt forced to talk instead. Feeling forced makes him want to yell out, to resist. She can’t force him to talk and feel unwelcomed feelings!

Why should he feel forced into talking? Is he feeling guilt for being angry with her? Fill the silence with words. They had been angry words for a while. Mostly. She had needed a good yelling at.

But she didn’t really. With a roll of his eyes, disappointment has completely shifted onto his own shoulders. Not her fault. Everything he was accustomed to has flipped. He is supposed to be the quiet brooder. Not her. But she's not really brooding. She has been watching and measuring, calculating her responses before speaking. That is usually his own tactic. Why does this woman get so under his skin?

_And she hugged him and told him that she’d be back the next month. Which she did each month for the next year. The two became friends. Then one month, when the man and Arla kissed and decided to be friends for life, Arla received a letter from her father, the sea king. It read that all mermaids had to return to the sea at once before the clock struck midnight. They were granted one last realm jump to return to their original home realm. If they refused, the realms inhabiting mermaids would all be sucked into the sea because that is where they belonged. Arla was heartbroken. She didn’t want to leave. But looking at the time, she saw that she had received the letter too late. She only had a short time until midnight. So, she ran and ran towards the sea and dove in. She used her last realm jump to return to the seas of the realm she was from._

“And which realm is that?” the boy asks, his eyes huge.

“The Enchanted Forest, of course.” Ariel pats his pillow to indicate that he lie down.

Arison does so, but his excitement does not diminish. “That’s where we live!”

Ariel nods.

_The mermaid swam around unhappily watching the shores of her original home. It didn’t feel like home anymore. She had made a home in the man with the hat’s realm. Even if only during the full moons. Then, only a few days later, the Green Fairy showed up while Arla was watching the shore. She gave her a bracelet that would allow her to live on land for as long as she wore it. So the mermaid walked ashore and never returned to the sea. There she found an uninhabited home, fixed it up and had a child of her own to share it with. Then, one day, the man with the hat showed up at the house. He had come to find her by some miracle._

“How did he know where to go?”

Ariel shrugs sending a curious glance over her shoulder towards Jefferson’s way.. “I don’t know. The magic of the portal, I suppose. It’s time for sleep now.” She leans forward and kisses the boy on the forehead.

“Write it in the book!” He sits up again in a flash.

Ariel chuckles. “I will. Lie down. It’s late!”

“Mama? What was the man with the hat’s name?”

Ariel looks over at Jefferson still leaning in the doorframe. “Jefferson, what do you think his name was?” she asks.

Jefferson was taken off guard for a moment thinking she was revealing that this half truth story was about him. He blinks and sputters a moment taken off guard. Standing off of the door frame he shoves his hands in his pockets to take a step farther into the room, his feet shuffling on the worn rug.

Arison speaks up. “Let’s name him Einstein! That’s Doc’s dog’s name!”

Jefferson looks repulsed. “Einstein!? What a preposterous name!”

“Well, do you have a better name to offer?” Ariel’s fingers cover her mouth in order to hide her amused smirk.

Jefferson slumps. “Well… No.”

“Einstein it is.” With a satisfied nod, she stands from the bed and shoos Jefferson out the door.

Yet, Arison speaks up interrupting their departure. “Papa?” the little voice asks quietly now.

Jefferson halts as if he had been struck in the back. Even Ariel, he notices, looks surprised as they both turn to look at the child.

His eyes begin to flutter in the darkening twilight of the evening. “Can I tell you something?”

Jefferson scratches the back of his head uncertainly as he slides a questioning glance towards Ariel who nods with a little grin. He had noticed that same grin has stayed on her face every time she speaks to or addresses Arison. The kid really makes her happy. _Oh_. She used to ply him with a grin of a different caliber. Things have certainly changed.

Curiously, Jefferson steps up to the kid’s bedside and looks down at him wondering what needs to be said. The boy does remind him a lot of Grace when she was younger, just with shorter, messy hair. But those are certainly Ariel’s green eyes looking back at him. “What is it?” Jefferson asks monotonously.

“Sit.” Bossy little grubber.

Only a hint of an exhale would betray Jefferson if it was heard, but no one reacts, so he sits. Arison begins to whisper quite quietly to the point where Jefferson almost misses what is said. He leans his ear in just enough to make out his words. “You’re the man in the hat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A special thank you is due to a dear friend for helping me understand what the hell my muses have had me writing here and getting the knots out of why Ariel is being so different from how I usually write her. This had bothered me for a while until our discussion over it. In all, I'm more inspired to add on more to the story than I had originally planned! Thank you! -AA


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a wee bit racy and dramatic. o.O My favorite muses here, okay? ;) Enjoy. -AA

_“But I have finally seen the light._

_I have finally realized_

_I need to love.”_

_-Muse_

After taking some time in the bathroom to think on this bedtime story Ariel has told the boy, he comes to realize that perhaps a lot of it is true after all. He did know her well at one time. She never seemed like the ‘love him and leave him’ type. He never would have let her in if she had been.

The changes he has noticed in her brings him to the recollection that she had been made to become stronger to survive this trying time. Raising a child alone; Jefferson could certainly understand the trials of such. Making a dilapidated house liveable. No income, save the goods they grow in their yard. And there is the money stored away somewhere from the Sheriff of Nottingham’s tax collection, but she had said she only uses it in dire need.

And what of the boy saying he’s the man in the hat? Does he know or is it just a child’s active imagination and wishing it to be true? Should he tell Ariel his suppositions? Arison is only five, but he’s clearly an intelligent and observant child. If he believes the “stories” to be true, he reminds Jefferson of Henry in a way. Curious, persistent, and imaginative.

He removes his trench coat and scrubs his hands over his face and dries them on the towel. Departing the bathroom, he finds the house quiet aside from the soft snore already coming from Arison’s room.

He has a son. Another child that he had missed years with. Is this what is meant to happen to him in this life? His hand brushes through his hair and over his head in lackluster feeling rather disappointed with himself and his supposed fate. He has no interest in adventure any longer. Too many years chasing after hope and losing anyway. At least Grace has a chance with her happiness.

‘A father must do what is best for his child first,’ he had said to David. Ariel has made his son happy as well. The boy doesn’t seem to realize he lives without the finer things life has to offer--the things he had wanted to provide to Grace when he himself was poor. She had brushed material objects away as long as she had him to sip tea with.

With a defeated sigh, he walks into the living room to see Ariel standing beyond it outside. The moonlight pours down illuminating her as she looks up at it. She looks so pale standing out there as if the color has been washed away. Her hair even looks black. Is she that different of a person now than who she was six years ago? Possibly stronger now. She has done all of this on her own.

 ~~

Ariel rubs her arms as she stares up at the moon. It is a bit ominous this night as dark clouds draw closer to the moon. A storm would be approaching soon. She had spent years studying the sailors’ stories, learning from them and the weather patterns to know what would come. A stirring in the treeline causes the fine hairs on her arms to raise in alarm as she feels like she’s being watched.

Quickly, she hurries back into the house and locks the door. A movement within the darkness of the house startles her causing her to cry out an _eep!_

Jefferson is there quickly enough with a hand on her arm. She notices he has removed his coat. It seems so much more relaxed a posture for him to have done so as if he is allowing himself to get more comfortable. Even if the rest of his clothes were still so formal looking. “Oh! I heard something outside and… I thought you were… Nevermind. Do you want tea?”

He juts his head back in surprise. “I didn’t know you drank tea.” His voice is low and grumbling in his chest, she notices and quirks an eyebrow at him as she moves towards the kitchen. He follows closely behind in a near stalking manner. She notices this as well as her nerves are still on high alarm. She keeps an eye on him as she reaches for the tea cups and places them one at a time on the counter.

“I have since meeting you.”

“What are you doing?” he inquires as he seems to notice the alarm in her posture and the way she is watching him.

A rumble of a storm sounds off around the house.

“Getting the tea ready,” she says quietly.

He steps up closer yet again so that he’s a foot away from her now. He can see her better close up in the dark house. Why hasn’t she lit any candles? She really should have. He lays a hand on her arm and looks down at her in surprise. “You’re trembling.”

“That’s because I’m scared,” she snaps back giving him an indignant look. Her other hand runs down her bicep to bring some warmth back into her shocked face. If there had been someone lurking in the woods, they surely wouldn’t be a bother to the inhabitants of the house, she hopes in order to calm her nerves.

“Of a thunderstorm?” He moves his hand up her arm, over her hand, over her shoulder and to the back of her neck as his fingers twine in her hair. If he can intimidate her this easily, she’d hate to see how she’d react if he put an effort into it.

“No,” she whispers as she angles her face up towards him. Why is he so close? He should still be angry with her. But he’s close and in her face and thoughts scatter. Oh yes, she is still very attracted to him.

~~

He tilts his head to the side and half smiles in confusion. “Surely not of me…” This is becoming a game. Cat and...fish. He narrows his eyes at her wondering should he pounce. He is simultaneously testing her in wanting to believe her words that she did still want him, hadn’t left him out of choice before, and that she is the woman he thought he knew. The feeling of being wanted is a powerful need to one who has felt so lost for so long.

Yet, as usual, Ariel beats him to it. She reaches up, hesitates for only a twitch of her hand, then places her hand to the back of his neck and pulls him towards her to kiss him which tells him immediately that he had misinterpreted. _Oh._

Hope surges back into his cells, his skin, his nerve endings feel alive again after so much time without hope, so much time alone, he had nearly forgotten what this feeling was. He doesn’t realize Ariel is feeling the same thing.

~~

Ariel’s senses rock as she is overwhelmed by the way he is kissing her back. Unexpected, but she pushes thought aside as she presses herself against him and pours all of the past six years of emotion and feeling into that kiss. Her hands roam up to his hair while his hands find her waist and back keeping her snug against him.

His mouth breaks away from hers in a huff as he dips his head to find her neck. Brushing her hair aside, he pays particular attention to just behind her ear. Her head tilts back and a slight whine escapes her.

“Ariel,” he whispers at her ear causing a shiver to run through her. She opens her eyes to see him looking her closely in the eyes, that predatory grin curling at his lips.

“I missed you,” she says. “I still want you.”

His hands travel down her back, over her clothed rear, and grips her to pull her up. Holding onto him with her arms around his neck, she allows him as she wraps her legs around his waist.

In a dizzying blur, she realizes he’s carrying her towards the sofa. The sofa? Yes, the sofa. Not the bedroom. Not in this house. It’s his house that was _hers_ , now Ariel’s. Too soon still? It didn’t matter at the moment. Her heart is racing so fast, but she feels his heart rate doing the same as her hands have made their way under his scarf to pull it off. She’s simultaneously amazed that he’s letting her remove the scarf--a barrier meant to conceal a scar she knew he preferred to hide. He had let her remove it before, so she needs to know if he will let her again. The hungry look in his eyes reminds her so much of the way he used to look at her. Is it all okay now?

He eases her onto her back on the sofa, his face lingering over hers as he watches her eyes for a moment. He leans closer to her mouth, the beginnings of a tender smile brightening his features. Her eyes close in anticipation.

 ~~

A crashing of glass in the distance followed by a scream has Jefferson jerking back and Ariel startling as she sits up. A whirling noise, a series of flashing lights in the darkness, followed by sudden silence makes it clear enough to two realm jumpers exactly what had just happened. But disbelief clouds this reasoning. “No!”

Jumping from the sofa, Ariel runs towards Arison’s bedroom flinging the door back until it bangs against the wall. With a shriek renting from her throat, she observes the empty bed, the light from the moon shining through the broken window. “Oh gods! He’s been taken!” she yells. The sound of heavy footsteps stop just behind her. Arms wrap around her midsection pulling her against his solid, very real frame.

No words are spoken for a moment, but support is clearly given. She’s not alone anymore. She sinks anyway against his arms as she panics. “There is no sheriff here. No one who can help me. No one!”

 _Us. It’s us now,_ he mentally corrects her, but neglects to voice this. He can’t. He still has a need of holding back to keep what he has left of his heart from being torn out as what he witnesses happening to Ariel.

A flash of a memory of his earlier thoughts crosses Jefferson’s mind. ‘ _Is this what my life has become? Constantly having my family taken from me?’_ It would seem so. Inhaling slowly, he keeps any emotion that could betray him firmly sealed in as his heart hammers against his ribcage. He has had lifetimes of experience in doing such and doing so comes naturally now.

He looks towards the broken glass that has fallen to the worn rug next to the bed. Tilting his head, something seems out of place. “Stay here. Broken glass.” Still wearing his boots, he drops his arms from around a shaking Ariel to meander slowly towards the window. A square of parchment lies among the shards. With two careful fingers, he bends and plucks the square up. One simple drawing on the square is all he needs. It is quickly crushed within his fist. Too little time. He had only just met the boy, but he is his. Time. They have all the time in the world.

~~

With a slow turn of his head back towards Ariel, the light catches the side of his face in the moon’s eerie glow that draws her a step closer into the room. He puts up a hand to stop her progress into the room. She catches his hand in hers. Not what he intended, but he wraps his fingers around her smaller hand. He cannot begin to ponder his own actions while being so overwhelmed in all that has happened.

They step out of the room into the hallway. His eyes still carry that gleam she had noticed in the room. A plan is clearly forming in his mind already, she knows.

“Are you prepared to travel again? My way?” His hat is lifted from the rack in the hall and is flipped backwards with a roll of his wrist and plopped onto his head just like he used to do. “We can find him.”

Ariel hastily wipes the tears from her eyes as she looks with determination into Jefferson’s. In his eyes, she sees the reflection of all the jumps he’s done before. This is his specialty as it once was hers. He’s right. _We can find him._

With a quick nod, she walks past him and into the bedroom to fling open the doors of the armoire. Tucked under a pile of cloth are a pair of slacks, a dark green shirt, and a leather jacket. Somewhat masculine for the Enchanted Forest, but more suitable for travel. She changes clothes in lightning speed and exits the room to find Jefferson lifting the bench seat from the window. Her jaw drops. “I didn’t know that opened!”

“Good,” he says simply as he is distracted in retrieving some things from within. He tucks them carefully within pockets in his jacket he is now wearing again. She sees that he has re-tied his scarf securely around his neck again. He stares at something briefly before touching it carefully, then putting it back within the hidden area. The bench is placed back so that it looks like a seat again.

Turning on his heel, he faces Ariel first noticing her cheeks are blotchy from shock. Taking a step towards her, he reaches a careful finger to poke at an errant tear still sitting upon her cheek. A poke is all he can manage at the moment. His walls are building again as he prepares for what is to come. Ariel may be important to him, but he needs to figure this out strategically. He is not one to make split decisions any longer.

With a startled jerk of his head, he is drawn from his wandering thoughts to noticing her change of clothing as he looks her up and down. “Hmm.”

“What?” she snaps, slightly exasperated and jumpy. He poked her face. So they are back to that stage. So be it. She can handle him and subtly pull down that wall again. She will gain his trust again. He’ll help her find Arison, and then find a new home safe somewhere again.

With a grin, he reaches for her hand which she takes. “We’ll find him. Trust the hat.”

“I trust _you_.” Determination and truth laces her tone. He nods.

“Good,” he repeats. The hat is removed from his head and with a flick of his wrist, he tosses it at the floor between the sofa and kitchen table behind it. He looks to her face with a half eager grin, half sympathetic encouragement. No longer feeling that lackluster annoyance for life, his sense of adventure is back. He has a purpose and goals again. He is needed.

Squeezing his hand, Ariel finds the encouragement in Jefferson’s eyes and nods to him signifying she is ready. Turning towards the spinning, sparking hat portal, she bends her knees and jumps as she thinks of the green eyed, dark haired boy that had captured her heart before he was even born.

_“Our Love is Mad Mad Mad”_

_-Muse_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So what do you think was on that note Jefferson picked up and what do you think it has told him? I'm curious to know what you think. Who do you think nabbed Arison? Any other thoughts on what you've read so far? I appreciate comments! Do you hate me for what happened to the kid? XD**
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>  _Future chapters **spoilers** :_ I had originally planned on ending this here for the assumption that they travel awhile and then it's all hunky dory again, or not and crush my two muses like a mean writer would. But why not write a lil more? The muses have a plan of action which I haven't written out yet. You'll see more from Doc Brown as well. (Yeah!) I'm taking some creative liberties on the way Jefferson's hat works. Why not? So please follow/bookmark/check back for more! Thanks for reading! -AA


	7. Chapter 7

  
_“Come to me, trust in your dream, come on and rescue me.”_  
_-Muse_

With a drop of their feet, Jefferson and Ariel land in a hallway of endless hallways of doors. The hat room. Jefferson is all business now. One of his children has been taken for his ability to create portals from a mere thought. A powerful gift or curse indeed.

He releases Ariel’s hand and begins heading towards a particular point that is well known to him in the halls. A specific door amongst the hallways which he dreads and loathes with every fiber of his being. He hates Wonderland more than any other realm in the hat. It has taken so much from him, thoughts on his past cause his blood to boil as his boots echo along the brick floor of the hall.

~~

Ariel is at a loss of contact when Jefferson drops her hand. He seems to have forgotten her presence. She knows he’s prone to getting lost in thought and doesn’t fault him for that. They had been reaquainted for less than a day. It’s understandable.

Her hands brush her arms as a chill strikes her in the cold air of the long hallway. The mysterious hall of doors. He had taken her there before on their adventures in the past, but it had been so long since she had been there and never expected to go again.

Jogging to catch up to Jefferson’s retreating figure, she steps up alongside him. He glances at her suddenly as if startled by her presence, then to save face, gives her a relieved grin. Somewhat of a goofy grin, as a matter of fact. Ariel can’t help but chuckle at him. He’s in his zone of comfort here. Even with that trace of worry she had noticed creasing his brow before he had turned to her. She trusts him and is confident this will work.

Thank goodness his hat had worked! She isn’t sure why it did. Why hadn’t he just left immediately when Storybrooke’s curse transported him and the rest of the townsfolk to the Enchanted Forest? Perhaps he had lost interest in doing so. Lucky for her, he had not.

Jefferson suddenly halts at a door that isn’t quite a door. It looks more like a looking glass. Even at night, the oversaturated scenery beyond it is quite vibrant. It’s quaint looking, Ariel thinks and looks to Jefferson in wonder at why he is waiting. Placing a hand on his elbow, he startles again as he looks at Ariel. “What’s wrong? What is this place?”

He gulps, but does not speak. His eyes are wide in apparent horror which shakes Ariel’s nerves. “Jefferson? What’s wrong? Tell me!”

He pulls irritably at his scarf so that his scar is visible. Ariel’s eyes linger there a moment before she meets his eyes again. He still looks lost in his own mind as he’s not speaking.

She takes a step closer so that her shoes strike his boots. His eyes follow her movement. Carefully putting her hand on his, she pulls his hand away from the scarf while her other hand cups his jaw.

He swallows what seems to be a particularly bothersome lump in his throat and finally focuses on Ariel as she has drawn him out of his troubled memories. Keeping his lips firmly closed, he raises an eyebrow at her inquiringly as if to wonder why she looks so concerned. Gently pulling her hand off of his face, he squeezes her hand and faces the mirror again. One last glance at her, and he steps through the mirror pulling a willing Ariel along.

While she’d like to know what got him so lost, she respects his boundaries enough not to ask if he’s unwilling to tell. A part of her wanted to ask if this was the realm that had given him that scar, threatened his life, and stole him away from Grace for all that time, but bringing up bad memories in a time like this is the last thing she wants to do.

Besides that, the realm they had just stepped into is quite overwhelming. Her jaw is dropped in wonderment at such a sight.

No time to loiter; Jefferson has taken off at a fast walk. He’s clearly bothered and highly distracted. In her shorter stance, she is practically running to keep up.

~~

  
_Time. Time. Not time. No time. Too much time. Running out. Doubt._

Jefferson glances at Ariel. The eager redhead is keeping up fine enough. He shouldn’t have brought her here, he thinks. Priscilla would be rolling in her grave. Why did it have to be Wonderland? Maybe it isn’t Wonderland. Maybe he misinterpreted the note found on Arison’s bedroom floor amongst the glass. He can only hope he is wrong.

He takes a left at the maze where Regina had used him so long ago. A low grumbling emits from his throat in recollection before he startles himself again realizing Ariel may have heard that. Must control emotions, he repeats to himself, quite disturbed at his behavior over the past day. So overwhelmed.

With a “Heh,” he slows down. He’s going to wear Ariel out at this fast pace, he figures and reaches for her hand. She quirks a smile at him and takes his hand. She’s not the slightest bit out of breath though. She’s pretty fit from all of those years of manual labor. There will be no problem in keeping up, so he continues along the shrubbery minding the need to stay clear of any grabbing hands it might possess.

~~

  
Ariel nearly halts in her rush when she spots a pair of eyes watching from the trees ahead. Jefferson jerks her hand and mutters, “Don’t even look. Just focus ahead.” Heeding his advice, she does as instructed. A particularly interesting building ahead catches her fancy in an effort to avoid the temptation at finding out what those eyes could possibly belong to. The building has torches lighting it so that it can be seen from a distance.

Jefferson has taken to shaking his head, she notices. He seems to be struggling against some internal conversation of his own in his focus. “Where are we going?” she whispers. The curiosity is eating at her to the point where she can’t wait any longer.

Again, Jefferson has the shocked look to his face when he looks at her despite the fact that she hadn’t let go of his hand. Digging her heels in, Ariel now yanks on his hand to stop his progress. “Tell me what is happening? Where are we and where are we going?”

Jefferson’s face falls in what Ariel can only imagine as disgust. Not at her, she can plainly tell. In the location. “Wonderland. I hate this place.” He pulls absently at his scarf again as he glances around themselves. He seems to be very aware of his surroundings despite the fact that he seems to continue to forget she is accompanying him.

Ariel nods. “Are you... bothered by what we will find here?”

He rolls his head around on his neck in agitation before meeting her eyes again. He steps up close to her so that he’s looking down upon her now. “This is the place I told you about. Where Regina fooled me, her mother imprisoned me. The reason why I’m considered.... mad. Why Grace was raised without me.”

Ariel stops him there. “I understand. I remember. You don’t have to--”

“I want to tell you,” he interrupts. Emotions continue to play across his face in his recollection of the past. “This is where I lost her. Priscilla. The individual that killed her… He lives here. I have reason to believe he took Arison.” Jefferson removes a crumpled ball of paper from his pocket and holds it out to Ariel. She recognizes this from when his fist had put it in such a state earlier.

Ariel gasps and shakes her head. “But why? How could he have known of Arison?” Taking the paper, she opens it to find a drawing of a hat of some sort but with something pointed and furry sticking out all around it. Being unable to make out what exactly this drawing is depicting, she furrows her brow to ask, “And what is this?”

“It’s a hat made of butchered rabbit ears. A very particular hat from a very particularly mad individual. Those people in Storybrooke have no idea what madness is. They’ve never met the March Hare.” The man that had killed his wife and changed Jefferson’s life. His nose is scrunched as his lip is slightly raised in disgust.

“He had this pocket watch, you see. He can rewind time, start it over again. A never ending tea party. An eternity of time with a madman, Ariel.” He paused for a moment in desperation as he watched her eyes. Would he pull away? She grips his hand tighter in support. “How can you understand this? Why don’t you ever pull away from me?” he asks as if reading her thoughts and sneering at her as he shakes his head.

“I understand you fine enough. And I’ve told you, I care about you, Jefferson. It’s what friends do.” If only he would stop resisting her, they could focus on moving forward instead of backwards. The irony of such a thought is brushed away as he continues walking forward.

~~

  
‘Friends. Sure. We are friends.’ His storm cloud continues to follow him as he’s in distress in this place. He doesn’t want to be there. He cares too much about Ariel to have brought her to this hell hole of a realm, yet he’s done it anyway. He should have done it alone.

He stops suddenly in his tracks and looks at Ariel again in horror. “I forgot.” He clamps his sagging jaw shut suddenly. “How could I forget? This is my job and I forgot!”

“What?”

“The rules of the hat! How could I be so stupid? Two go in, two go out. If he’s here, the three of us can’t leave. Only two can leave.” Jefferson grabs the hat from his head and throws it at a tree then causing a gasp out of Ariel. Without hesitation, she runs after it and catches the rolling top hat before it gets too far. He’d have to send Ariel along without him rendering him trapped yet again in Wonderland.

Too distracted. Ariel is a distraction. Family, love, friendship, whatever this is, it’s distracted him into a colossal mistake. Yet, a plan of action occurs to him. But, he couldn’t do that. No way.

Ariel pipes up as she stomps her way back over to him carrying his hat between her hands. With a quick motion, she shoves it at his chest. “You aren’t stupid. Don’t call yourself that. I’m not stupid and I know the same rules of your hat. I’ve done this with you before. When we find him, you’ll take him home and drop him off at Doc Brown’s house then come back and get me. Easy enough.”

Jefferson had been shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “I am not leaving you--”

“Yes, you will. Don’t argue. Now, let’s go find our son!” She stomps off away from him in the direction they had been heading before he has any opportunity to argue. It was a feasible plan and would work. But she clearly doesn’t understand Wonderland like he does.

~~

  
Before long a particularly repetitive humming noise catches Ariel’s attention. She absently glances over her shoulder to spot a frumpy looking shape following along within the darkness of the trees. She angles her body so that she can catch a better glance. It doesn’t look like the typical sort of cat she is accustomed to. It is grinning at her as it disappears leaving its mouth in it’s wake before it poofs out of sight only to reappear farther down the way in the shadows watching her and Jefferson’s progress.

“Uh, what is that?” She points at the cat.

A pained sigh is her answer as Jefferson finally decides to walk next to her instead of behind her. “Cheshire. What do you want?” His voice is bored in his inquiry.

In another fading out, the cat reappears upon a branch closer to the pair. “Long time no see. I thought you would flee…” The voice is almost lyrical and teasing, Ariel observes as she stops walking.

Jefferson flicks a dismissive hand at the cat and continues walking grabbing Ariel by the wrist as he goes. She looks over her shoulder to find the cat had disappeared again as expected. Only to stop suddenly as Jefferson had halted again. “What do you want?” he asks again of the cat who has now appeared directly in front of them. The teeth on the small beast are very obviously sharp and deadly looking. Ariel takes a step back from it, yet Jefferson holds his ground.

“You seek an old accomplice, that’s why you’re here, but your goals will not be met, I fear…”

“What do you mean?” Ariel pipes in. Jefferson squeezes her wrist in warning.

“Poisoned by laced ‘shrooms you see. Not a good day to have ears of three…”

“Riddles! Are you saying the March Hare is dead? Spit it out, Cheshire!” Jefferson glares at the cat and takes a step forward, absently dragging Ariel forward against her better judgement.

The cat only grins and fades into nothing.

“He’s not here? We’ve been tricked?” Ariel runs her free hand through her hair as she looks around for the cat, but finds nothing out of the ordinary in the darkness. No wonder Jefferson hates this realm. It is making Ariel physically nauseated.

“We have been tricked,” he answers simply. He turns then and heads back in the direction they had originally come. “We had better get out of here fast. Wonderland isn’t the best place to be at night. Or anytime for that matter.”

On the way back, Ariel’s ankle twists at a loose brick in the pathway sending her careening towards the maze’s hedge. A leafy hand grabs her by the arm, yet Jefferson-- having been lost in thought again--snaps to attention fast enough to pull her back from the deadly hedge.

“Come on. Almost there, fish stick,” he says with a gentle smile, pulling her flush against his side, his arm around her as he hurries her along.

Fortunately, the mirrored door is just where it was before. No further tricks await them as they jump through the mirror sealing the horrors of Wonderland away for now.

~~

  
Ariel winces as she bends at the waist to grip her ankle. Rotating the joint a little, she feels it isn’t sprained, just a little sore. With a sigh, she stands upright to look about the hallway of doors again.

Jefferson, satisfied that she is standing upright again, releases his hold on her and begins searching the inner pockets of his coat for something. It had been a long time since it was needed. A long time indeed.

He withdraws a rather oddly shaped coin. It is round, but bears a face of some creature upon it causing it to jut out in the front. Satisfied with himself, he smirks at the coin and places it in a slot in the wall. The coin begins to roll down a track in the wall which leads to a track down the middle of the hallway. Jefferson begins following it. “This is how I find out where to go when I don’t know which door to pick. Trust the hat, Ariel.”

Ariel limps after him and he realizes her impediment and laces an arm under hers for support as they follow the coin. It begins travelling faster than he had anticipated and Ariel cannot keep up. “Here,” he says and bends to lift her under her knees so that he can move them along faster. “I’ve never seen the coin travel that fast.”

Down one hallway, then the next, torches in the walls flare to life along their path. Ariel wraps her arm over his shoulders and holds on. Finally the coin falls out of the track and spins in a loud, metallic drumming in front of an ornate door with elaborate carvings upon it. Setting Ariel down on her feet, he swipes up the coin before it stops spinning and deposits it back into an inner pocket. “Here we are… I guess.” The level of uncertainty in his tone has Ariel glancing at him in puzzlement.

“What is it?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been down this hallway. I have no idea what is beyond this door.” He certainly had said at one time that he had been through every door, she recalled.

Feeling the separation from him and not liking it, Ariel reaches out for his hand. He glances down to her hand, then back to her eyes. A slight quirk to the corner of his lips also lights his eyes. “May this be the door to Arison,” she hopes.

They both place a hand on the door and push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be obvious I have never seen _OUAT in Wonderland._ My version of Cheshire is more like the animated version since I'd rather not do injustice to the man-eating bastard of a beast I've heard about from OUATW.  
> I have taken some liberties with Jefferson's hat and the coin in the track. This guy is so fun and has so much potential with his hat, why not explore more of what it can do? Thanks for reading! -AA


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Alright, I'm super excited about this chapter as I introduce to you a new character. This is where we do a crossover. Squee!_  
>  -AA

Crashing to the Enchanted Forest’s mossy ground, Ariel sits up and wipes the tears streaming from her face. Failure was behind each and every door they had crossed. Jefferson’s coin had either led them astray or someone is playing a game with them. There had been a hint of a trail of Arison, only to end up with nothing.

Jefferson springs up from the ground and immediately paces. “I can’t understand this. The hat has never deceived me. Not ever! We’re missing a big clue, I just know it.”

Ariel remains seated, but slumps forward with her chin in palm. Her mind wanders over all they had been through. Arison had to have been in those places, those realms. There were pieces of his clothing found. A scrap here, a scrap there. But no one they crossed had seen a trace.

“On one hand, we don’t know the depth of his ability. On the other hand, we don’t know who has him or what their goal is.” Jefferson continues to pace. He stops suddenly, looks up, grabs his hat and hurls it off into the trees just as he had done in Wonderland. This time, Ariel does not go after it. Why bother?

“I’m really tired, Jefferson. I need to go home and rest.” She looks as weary as she sounds. Neither of them had slept much in the weeks of hunting realm after realm, following the coin along the track to a new door that Jefferson had never crossed before that moment.

He nods to her as he approaches extending a hand. She grips his hand and stands looking listlessly off in the distance. An arm around her waist is felt then, but she can’t much care at the moment. Her heart is too troubled.

When they re-enter the quaint yellow house, it is obvious by the smell of the stale air that it had been vacant for weeks. When they reach the living room, Ariel plops onto the sofa and slips down on it curling up. She looks thinner than he recalled her looking the last time he had seen her laying there.

This won’t do. Time for action. Well, they had been on the run non-stop. New plan of action. They need help.

Jefferson heads to the kitchen to dig through cupboards until he finds the tea, kettle, and tea cups. While the water is boiling, he mulls over what needs to be done. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t like his son being missing either.

He pours the boiling water over each tea ball in the cups, then carries one to the coffee table near Ariel. She is asleep. “Good,” he murmurs. “He will be home soon. You’ll see.”

After a moment of contemplation with a firm set to his lips, he finishes off his tea--rather too quickly actually and burns his tongue.

Muttering at himself, he leaves the house to pass through the tree line. That house with the silver car was just beyond, he recalled from the day he followed Arison there. That silver car had to be a DeLorean. Now he knew for certain who lived there and the man’s history, for these stories about such people as they are had to come from somewhere.

A pounding on the door sends a series of clicks and whistles beyond the dense wood to sound off. Jefferson takes a hasty step back in case something were to shoot out at him or fall upon him. Best to be prepared. It’d be nice to have his gun right about now, he thinks rather irritably as he chews his lip.

In the space of four seconds, a sliding panel is pulled from a tiny window in the door. A pair of wild eyes fill the window. One eye opens particularly wider than the other as it looks Jefferson up and down. “Great Scott! A visitor!” A series of coughs and clearing of a throat sounds off, before the man is back at the window with an inquiring eye. His voice seems much less raspy and more collected when he speaks again. “Ahem. May I help you?”

Jefferson smirks at the man and resists the urge to shake his head. No surprise here that the man sounds a lot like his theatrical version, and by the bulging view of those eyes, it is likely that the rest of the fellow is right on track as well.

“My name is Jefferson,” he starts.

“Jefferson! Great Scott!” The panel is slammed shut at that point leaving the man in question looking around wondering what the hell had just happened there. Is he going to be left outside? Surely not. He’ll just break in.

But before long, another series of sliding locks of many varieties sound off and the door is swept open in a grand gesture to reveal… not at all what was expected. A rather short man stands beyond the door. He has calm, light brown hair--not wild stark white as expected--and is wringing his hands. The man looks to be no older than Jefferson himself. “And just who are you?” Jefferson asks a rudely jutting his head forward.

The short man jerks his head back in response, looks beyond his visitor, then back at him. “You came to my door. Are you not Jefferson?”

Jefferson just stares a moment, clearly confused. He had let his own imagination get away from him in his expectations. It had to have come from somewhere. “You are Doc Brown?”

The shorter fellow looks Jefferson up and down again consideringly. “....Yes?”

“You’re lying. Who are you? I don’t have time for games.”

“Time. Ha! That’s a good one. Why don’t you come in. I’ll make tea.” The short fellow turns away strutting with a peculiar gait as he disappears around a corner.

“I don’t want any tea. I want to speak to Doc Brown. Where is he?” Jefferson calls after the retreating figure.

Clanking of ceramics is heard from the interior of the house for a moment before a response is given. “I told you, that’s me. Where’s Ariel and Arry?”

Jefferson has followed into the house by now taking in the sights. There is more clutter there than his hat room prison in Wonderland. This man is the worst kind of hoarder. Trinkets of metal and wood, brightly colored and rusted through, this man lives in a junk heap. Where did all of this metal come from anyway? This doesn’t look like it solely came from the Enchanted Forest.

Before he can turn the corner, he jerks his arm up in revulsion at some giant bulbous plant that has leaned towards him as if sniffing him. “No, no… Not interested, thanks…” he mutters cautiously as he scoots sidewise away from it.

Feeling free from the plant’s observance, he faces forward again to stumble on a stack of newspapers. The date of the black and white print before his eyes reads October 26, 1955. Lifting the paper from the stack, Jefferson scans the paper before looking around himself again. This man does more than travel across time. The movie wasn’t exactly on par with reality. A smug smile crosses his face as he sets the paper neatly back on its stack.

Entering the kitchen, Jefferson observes the man digging through an icebox for something. The kettle begins to steam already as well. That certainly was fast. Of course it was. A container of some sort of fuel burned beneath the tripod. Definitely a realm jumper. Recalling a question had been asked while he was wandering, Jefferson leans his face forward to ask inquiringly to the man’s back. “Pardon me?”

“Oh, your boy, Arison. I call him Arry.”

“And why would you do that?” He leans against the doorframe crossing his arms over his jacket. Rolling his eyes around to take in more gadgets piled atop boxes and coiled objects hanging from the wooden rafters. He wonders idly what Ariel would have thought of this place. She’d have a field day picking through this. She had always been a collector. Yet her house--yes, hers, he reminds himself--was free of clutter. Interesting.

Doc Brown, as he calls himself, shrugs and lets out an anxious laugh. “It’s kinda my thing. So where are they?”

The man seems pleasant enough, even with the nervous tick he seems to have about himself. His shoulders seem to twitch as if he has a clock somewhere on his person and it has been startling him repeatedly. Keeping his guard up, Jefferson sits where indicated, but keeps his back to the wall.

Straightening his scarf as if to keep himself dignified, Jefferson levels an all-business look at the guy. “Ariel is asleep. Our son, Ari _son_ , is missing. He was...taken. I don’t by whom.” His tone has dropped by the end of the sentence and a slouch to his spine finally shows a hint of his own exhaustion. “We searched realm after realm following a trail, but...nothing.”

“Uh… So you’re here in particular because…?”

And there it is. Doc has given no indication of surprise at his mention of searching multiple realms. Ariel has told him what she or Jefferson could do. His defenses up, Jefferson sits ramrod straight. “Because I know who you are! I know what you can do. I know what that silver _car_ is in your garage. A DeLorean to be precise.”

The man blanches. “Uh. Yeah…” He looked like he is guilty of being caught. “Look, uh… That kid means a lot to me, too. I’ve been here for the past few years and have been showing him a thing or two about what I do. I want to help, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” he snaps.

“Because the flux capacitor isn’t working! I need fuel! I don’t have it!”

“Fuel?” Jefferson is taken off guard at that point. Why is fuel ringing a bell? He waves his hand out towards the man to say, “Don’t you just put...vegetables or something in it? You don’t need ...uh…” he waves his hand around as if attempting to grasp the word he’s looking for, “plutonium anymore.”

Doc rounds on Jefferson with his wild eyes glaring suspiciously. “Vegetables? Are you mad? How do you know what the DeLorean needs?”

“I’m not mad! I’ve seen your movie!” He groans at how idiotic that sounds. “Look. I’m not surprised that you exist because people tell about you in another land. Or at least, they talk about Doc Brown and Marty.”

“I told you, I am Doc Brown. And I don’t know any Marty.”

“Riiight.” That arrogant curl lights Jefferson’s upper lip as he looks to the guy in disbelief.

“Why is that so hard for you to accept? You don’t know me. I’m not the same as some fable you’ve heard in another land.”

Now this comes close enough to home to Jefferson that he gives the man a considering look again. Perhaps he’s just the younger version of the man in the movies. That could be so. “Alright then. What’s your first name?”

“Emmett.” Suspicions confirmed for the time being.

“Fine. Let’s move along. This is wasting time.”

The shorter man shoots off from the kitchen in a hurry. “Yes, I agree! Time is important!” He looks over his shoulder at his visitor and grins with a light chuckle. “You know, they call me a real nutcase around here. I don’t usually get visitors unless it’s someone around to taunt me or throw rotten vegetables at me. Wait, what did you say about vegetables?” He flings a door open and disappears down a dark stairwell.

Jefferson pauses at the top, not in the least inclined to descend into darkness with a self proclaimed nutcase. “I’d never admit being a nutcase to someone I just met,” he mutters. Despite the man’s oddness, he feels a strange kinship to the guy. He’s the Enchanted Forest’s new madman, it seems, since he left. Puzzling over this a moment, he turns to peer out the window facing the tree line towards his own house where Ariel slept. What had she thought of this guy? She seems to like odd. Hmm.

“Well?! Are you coming?” the voice shouts from down below. Jefferson snaps back to the present to see that a light is burning down the stairwell and follows along.

~~

Ariel jerks upright from the sofa with a scream. Sweat pours from her face. Her hair is even wet. Absently, she wonders where Jefferson has gone. It’s too quiet in the house. A teacup is before her on the little table. Picking it up, she finds it is cold. He’s been gone a while then. Drinking it down anyway, she finds refreshment in it and sighs in relief at how it hits her empty stomach.

She prepares a quick meal, eats half of it, and wraps the remainder up for later. Or for Jefferson if he’s coming back. He would. He will. He isn’t the leaving type. Well, he might be. Her thoughts get carried away too easily in the quiet house.

Being busy works best for her, so she heads outside while she’s already sweaty and cleans up the mess in the garden. Weeds litter her neat rows of potatoes and carrots. Ripping them out and hurling them out of the garden and pulling up the ripe vegetables, she finds relief in the physical labor. All the while her mind continues to churn on the past few weeks chasing a trail that seemed stale.

If Jefferson hadn’t been there, she would have been dead by now for sure. He insisted she rest, sleep, eat, and breathe. He held her when her body was wracked with sobs. He had kissed the tears from her face and smoothed her hair from her forehead while she slept. The tenderness he gave to her helped her continue on when trail after trail dissipated into nothing. As irritable as he can be, he made up for it in support.

It’s funny how she had survived just fine for six years, but as soon as he comes back into her life, she loses her son and nearly starves herself to death. There is no blaming him for any of this. Something must have come to the Enchanted Forest with the rest of Storybrooke’s population. Someone followed. That day they spoke in the woods, that rustling in the trees… Someone heard. She had been careless around him and spoke too loudly. Someone heard. Someone knew what to look for and stole their son while they were distracted.

Ripping a particularly stubborn weed from the ground, she yells as it cuts into her palm. The blood pools in her palm as she stares at it. “Oh gods, Arison. Where are you?”

Looking around herself feeling more lost than ever, her attention is drawn to just over the tree line. Plumes of colored smoke rise from the house she knows is just beyond. Those color patterns mean something specific. Doc Brown is working on his DeLorean.

Standing up from the dirt, Ariel grips her fist tight as she hurries into the house to wash up. Afterwards, her hand is securely bandaged and she is wearing clean clothes to look presentable. She takes the basket of excess vegetables and heads towards the tree line. Perhaps Emmett would have some kind of idea about Arison’s whereabouts or about who took him.

When the house comes into view, she nearly drops the basket. The DeLorean is out of the garage and there stands Jefferson beside it laughing companionably next to the scientist. “What the hell?” Ariel says to herself. Emmett and Jefferson friends? Two known recluses enjoying each other’s company? It’s clear enough by the way they are talking and making hand gestures in reference to something that they don’t mind the other’s company.

Picking up her step, she walks faster towards them tilting her head at the two of them. When Jefferson's eyes land on Ariel, his eyes widen at her, his words dry on his lips and his jaw sags a bit. Emmett, noticing the change, turns his head to follow Jefferson’s gaze. Upon spotting Ariel, he grins widely and claps his hands together.

Jefferson jerks at the clap and snaps his jaw shut and turns a glare on Emmett. Ariel takes all of this in wondering what the glaring was about and why the instant mood change in Jefferson.

~~

“Ariel, my dear, how are you feeling?” Doc asks walking up to Ariel immediately and taking one of her hands. Jefferson feels the hair rising on the back of his neck. _‘Who the hell does he think he is calling her ‘his dear’?’_ Jealousy shoots through Jefferson so fast, he doesn’t even recognize the emotion. He continues to stand there, his hands at his sides as he watches with a blank expression.

Ariel smiles at the shorter man that matched her height and squeezes his hand in return. “I’m not okay, Emmett. Arison is missing. Has Jefferson told you?” She turns her focus on him and quirks her head to the side furrowing her brow at how he was standing watching her.

 _‘So they are on a first name basis. Lovely.’_ He watches the way Doc is looking at Ariel in concern as the man nods vigorously.

“Yes, I know about Arry, but we have a plan! Don’t we Jeff?”

“Do not call me Jeff. My name is Jefferson.” He may be grinding his teeth, but he has the right to. They are his own teeth.

Ariel drops her hand from Doc’s and shoves the basket she had been carrying into the man’s arms. She immediately walks towards Jefferson and stops only when her shoes strike against his boots. His eyes follow hers and looks down upon her, his lips snarking into a disgruntled purse.

And then she jabs him in the guts with a glare and a bandaged hand, he notices with a frown. “What is wrong with you? You’re acting strange even for you.”

Looking up at the man in which he thought he had made a friend, he glares as Doc retreats into the house for something muttering to himself along the way. _Oh._ He has just given them privacy.

“Nothing is wrong with me. I’m not acting strangely. What have you been doing with _Emmett Brown_ , Ariel?” Well. That certainly was childish, he realizes immediately, and clamps his jaw shut working it at grinding his teeth again.

Shooting up an incredulous look at Jefferson, she resists a grin. “You’re jealous! Ha! You _love_ me, don’t you?”

Jefferson drops his jaw at that accusation. “You know damn well that I do!”

“You don’t ever say it!” She jabs him in the chest over his heart. He grabs her small hand before she can do it again.

“Why do I need to? Don’t I show you? I hold you and kiss you. I haven’t left you.” The words dry on his lips at saying that. He shouldn’t have said that.

“You could have. But you didn’t.” She pries her hand out of his grip and places her palm on his chest gently. “I’m sorry for...accusing you.” A tiny grin flirts at her lips.

He bobs his head, looking down at her hand over his heart, and shrugs as he mutters, “You can yell at me and accuse me of loving you all day as long as you still have that fire in you. I can’t...handle you looking so distraught.”

Feelings keep pouring out and the associated words, and as much as he usually dislikes doing so, this is Ariel he’s speaking to. She understands. He understands her. He can even trust her with his feelings…he guesses. Ugh.  

Doc picks that moment to interrupt with a crash within the garage. “Great Scott! Jefferson! You were right!” More crashing follows a loud whoop of what Jefferson could only hope was a joyous outcry. "Oh! This is heavy!"

The couple runs into the garage to find the man holding up a white cylindrical object that is recognizable as plastic. Certainly not heavy at all. Jefferson eyes the object suspiciously as it looks familiar, but isn’t quite ringing a bell. “It’s a food processor I got… sometime ago. And your idea about vegetables as fuel will get the DeLorean going! I just know it!”

As he jogs to the DeLorean, he works at attaching the processor to the back while muttering things to himself. He actually does favor his movie version, Jefferson thinks in amusement.

Ariel pokes at his arm drawing his attention back to her. “I’ve been thinking… I think I know who did it. Who has Arison.” She wipes a fretful hand across her eye that had suddenly begun watering.

He shakes his head as he narrows his eyes. “Who? Tell me. We’ll find him better if we know who.”

“I told you years ago I was almost attacked by the sheriff. Arison got rid of him by creating that portal. He would have known what was going on. The sheriff knew.”

Jefferson interrupts. “He was sent back to Storybrooke. And all of Storybrooke is here again. Was here… The bastard came back and grabbed him.” He looks off towards the tree line. “Son of a bitch.”

Ariel nods eagerly. “We just don’t know where. If only I could realm jump, I could go exactly to where they are by focusing on them. The travel ban though.”

“It doesn’t matter. Doc here can help. We have an idea. And this information will help us narrow it down to _when_ we will go back to stop the sheriff.” His eyes are intense as he stares into Ariel’s. He can see that she believes him. It helps him to believe in himself. They will succeed.

A spark and a whirr calls their attention to the DeLorean as it comes to life for the first time in years. “It works!” Doc spins around on his heel then turns around again, then back towards the garage as if he doesn’t know where to go.

“Doc!” Jefferson calls out. “What are you doing?”

He glances back towards Ariel and Jefferson who are standing there regarding him. His eyes are wild again just as Jefferson’s first impression of him was. “Not me, us. We’re going back!”

“...to the...past?” Jefferson asks chuckling causing his chest to wrack in restrained laughter.

Ariel looks up at him like that was clearly what Doc had meant and not seeing what was so funny. Just Jefferson being Jefferson. She shakes her head and steps carefully towards the smooth running machine. “Wait! Are you feeding it my vegetables?”

“That I am! Your hatter is brilliant! This fuel is perfect to get this baby moving.” He continues shoving potatoes and the leafy greens along with the carrots into the processor.

“‘My hatter,’” she repeats with a smirk at the one mentioned. “Brilliant, hm?”

He shrugs. “You really should watch movies when you get back to Storybrooke. Or...if? When? Whatever. Let’s just get in. Time’s ticking.”

Doc piles into the DeLorean after Jefferson and Ariel. “Oh! I almost forgot!” A sharp whistle is emitted from between his teeth.

A huffing and pawing of claws has Jefferson leaning back against Ariel. _‘Is it that plant? No, plants don’t have claws…’_ Ariel grabs him by the shoulder and struggles to see around him. A furry, light colored mutt of some sort leaps into the front seat over Jefferson’s legs.

“That a boy, Einstein!” Doc pats the beast enthusiastically.

“Einstein? Mehh.” A sneer curls Jefferson’s lip. Ariel snickers at him planting a peck of a kiss on his cheek.

“Date? Let’s see. _When_ are we going?” Doc looks up in the rear view mirror at the two back seat passengers.

“What date did you move here, Emmett?” Ariel asks politely.

“June 16th. It was, oh… three years ago.”

“Then we need to go to June 14th. The Sheriff of Nottingham disappeared on that day.”

Jefferson narrows an eye at Ariel. She had told this neighbor of hers a lot of things. Ariel stares back at him and sticks her tongue out. “Very mature.”

“Thank you.”

Doc readjusts the rear view mirror to glare seriously at the two again. “Now, listen closely. Do not interact with your former self, Ariel. You can’t cross her path either, Jefferson. At that point in time, she isn’t expecting you. Seeing you then, but not in the next three years, could be devastating. We could also end up having the catastrophic consequences of a time paradox!”

“What?” Ariel pipes in from the back seat.

Doc continues speaking, “There could be a rip in the space-time continuum which would lead to the destruction of the entire universe! We’re already going back to change one thing. Who knows what else could happen after that!”

“I’m not worried,” Jefferson adds helpfully.

After the date is pressed into the computer next to the steering wheel, Doc proceeds to buckle himself in. Ariel grabs a hold of Jefferson’s arm. He grins at her. Einstein barks.

“I haven’t gotten this baby to work in years, but when it gets to 88 miles per hour, you’re going to see some serious shit!” An excited grin lights the man’s face as he releases the clutch and presses the accelerator.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Wee! So, I never expected a broship between Jeff and Doc, but as I was writing it, BAM, it just happened. Jefferson needs a pal anyway. Big grins here. I honestly never even realized how similar in personalities they are (though I do think Jeff has it more 'together') until I started writing this chapter. It's funny how that happens, isn't it? XD_  
>  So, please drop a comment with any tips on Doc or anything else you might be wondering or what occurred to you in reading this. Thanks for following along! --AA


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am introducing two new canon characters to this chapter. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Sorry about the long delay as my muses took a hiatus. I had written most of this quite a while ago, but I couldn't figure out how to end it. I've got it now! Hopefully chapter 10 will come along shortly after this one. Please drop a review and let me know how I'm doing. Thank you for reading!_  
>  -AA

The DeLorean makes a rough landing causing Ariel to hit the seat in front of her. Arms wrap around her midsection to pull her back flush against Jefferson’s chest. She would thank him, but her attention is drawn towards what lies beyond the windshield. They appear to have stayed in Doc’s yard as the vehicle comes to a slow stop.

“Great Scott! The clock! It’s all messed up!” Doc pokes the previously lit date and time screen with an agitated finger. Nothing changes on the dark screen. “Who knows when the hell we are now!” His hands fly to his hair causing it to stick out on the sides.

Jefferson’s grip around Ariel’s waist slackens. “You don’t know when we are? Did this contraption even work at all?” His tone suggests irritation.

Ariel pats Jefferson’s knee as she leans forward between the two front seats. “Emmett, just open the door, will you? I’ve got to see...when, what’s going on at this time, okay?” Panic laces her tone as it begins to occur to her that they may have gone too far back in time.

“Time travel is a bad idea,” Jefferson mutters as he finds a lever on the side of the passenger seat to adjust the seat’s position.

“You’ve got that right! I really ought to destroy this thing, but it’s just not the right time yet…” Doc says as he pulls the front panel off of the screen.

With an unamused smirk, Jefferson mutters, “Funny.” Ariel detects some sarcasm in his tone as she unabashedly climbs over Jefferson’s legs to exit the vehicle.

She makes a beeline towards the trees that separate her house from Doc’s. “Please let him be there,” she huffs out as she runs. The yellow house comes into view as she bursts through the tree line. She knows the way the house looks in her own present day. The last bit of work she had done is not evident any longer. “It worked!”

Leaping over the few steps on the porch she is about to burst through the front door, when she recalls that her past self may be inside. Wouldn’t that cause a paradox? Or whatever had Emmett said? Regardless of any consequences, she has to find Arison. He has to be there.

Instead of entering the house, the windows should be sufficient in finding out. The sun is likely at four o’clock so Arison would be home if they hadn’t gone back far enough.

A redheaded woman passes by the window at that moment causing Ariel to duck out of sight. Peering over the sill, she narrows her eyes to look for the little boy that should be somewhere in sight.

Something seems too vastly different here. The dress on the woman is too vibrant green. Ariel is sure she’s never worn a dress like that. Raising her head a little farther over the sill, she looks past the woman at the furniture. It’s all in the wrong spots. “How far back did we go?” she whispers as her eyes widen.

That is definitely not Ariel inside the house. Which means they had gone much farther than expected. Likely, what? Forty years back if that’s Jefferson’s deceased wife inside.

“Oh hell.” Ariel moans, standing up. The woman inside turns a horrified look towards the window to spot Ariel. She runs towards the front door.

“Who are you? Are you lost?” The woman’s green eyes roam over Ariel who shakes her head.

“I’m so very lost.” Ariel slumps to the wooden beams of the porch.

“I’m Priscilla. Can I help you?”

With a quiet chuckle, Ariel shakes her head. “No, there’s really nothing you can do. It was a mistake for me to come here. I’ll be leaving.”

The sound of a crying infant inside draws Priscilla’s concerned eyes away from Ariel for a moment. “If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll be right back. We can talk. Stay here, alright?”

Ariel nods, but has no intent in staying put. Priscilla scurries off inside with a whirling of skirts. This woman is in her house, but it’s actually not Ariel’s at all. She’s meeting the previous owner. Jefferson’s wife. She’s very much alive here. Feeling rather sick, Ariel stands from the porch clutching her stomach. What should she do? She’d have to tell him. He might walk through the trees in a minute now anyway.

Before Ariel takes two steps, Priscilla has returned carrying a brunette little girl adorably dressed in a linen shift. “Grace,” Ariel mutters without thinking.

“What did you say?” Priscilla stops her progress towards Ariel with a shocked expression. Her green eyes widen as she studies Ariel.

Shaking her head, Ariel wipes her eyes. “I’m not feeling very well. I had better go.”

“Who are you?”

Shaking her head again, Ariel starts to head off, but Priscilla yells for her to stop.

Doing so, Ariel stops and dips her head. “My name is Ariel. My child has been kidnapped and I thought he might be here. I’ve made a mistake.”

“Oh no! Well, I will help you. We’ll go to town and speak to the sheriff post haste!”

“The what?!”

“Well, the sheriff of course! It’s his job after all.”

Shaking her head in horror, Ariel feels as if she will be sick after all.

“Sweetheart, please. I feel your pain as a mother. Let me help you. Come inside for tea, I’ll feed Grace, and then we’ll go, alright?”

Nodding in shock, Ariel enters the home that isn’t her home with the woman that died over thirty five years ago.

 ---

Jefferson stands back from the DeLorean and kicks it with his boot. “What a worthless piece of tin.”

Doc pops his head out from the side of the engine to glare at him. “This isn’t worthless and it certainly isn’t tin! Get your head outta your ass and try the ignition again.”

Grinding his teeth, Jefferson glares at Doc. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Shut up and just do it. Maybe it was your lousy vegetable idea.”

With pursed lips and a glare between the tires and his boots, Jefferson grumbles under his breath. “It wasn’t my idea. I blame Hollywood.”

“What?”

Rolling his eyes, Jefferson slumps back into the driver’s seat to turn the key again. Not that he knows vehicles very well at all, but he’s sure the engine is flooded. “This is a waste of time.”

“Nonsense! We’ve got all the time in the world!”

“You sound mad.”

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” The mutter is heard even from where Jefferson sits.

“That’s it. I’m done.” Exiting the busted vehicle, Jefferson follows after the direction Ariel had gone nearly an hour prior. He would have gone sooner, yet Doc’s insistence that he knew what he was doing kept Jefferson present.

There’s only so much he can handle with this eccentric nut, after all.

Meandering through the trees, he comes upon his house. Not expecting the time difference in the least, he fails to notice the difference in the exterior of the house. In fact, he walks right up the steps of the porch and through the front door as if he still owned the house.

He spots Ariel immediately as she’s sitting on the sofa in the living room at the back of the house. Concern crosses his expression. If she’s sitting there, where is Arison? Why isn’t she looking?

And then another redhead walks into his field of vision. He stops in his tracks to process what his eyes are seeing. Not two Ariel’s. No. But who…?

The question evaporates as he recognizes distantly that this is Priscilla serving tea to Ariel. His jaw drops as he looks between the past and the future. And there in a bassinet is an infant that he hasn’t seen in so long. His heart clenches along with the tense set of his jaw.

Three people he would die for are in this room.

Doc’s prior warning to not engage with themselves in the past jolts his spine. Glancing immediately towards the front door he had entered through, he doesn’t see the hat on the peg. He wouldn’t be there. He must be away. Priscilla wouldn’t expect him then? Make up a story…

Removing his hat from his head, Jefferson takes a few steps backwards to drop his hat on the peg followed by his coat. He wouldn’t have worn it in the house for long. He can’t let on that he’s not her Jefferson anymore, can he? How would that alter his past? A chill runs along his frame as he adjusts his vest and scarf.

Pasting a slight grin of ease to his face in attempt at masking the anxiety that slowly builds, Jefferson walks into the living room. His eyes focus first on Grace as she plays with a wooden toy. The anxiety momentarily dissipates as he watches her little feet kick the air. Then his eyes move to Priscilla as her big green eyes meet his. Oh, it’s been so long. His breath catches in his throat as his feet still upon the rug.

“Jefferson! You’re home early! Come here, dear. This poor woman needs our help. Her son has been kidnapped. I told her I’d help her seek the sheriff for help.” Priscilla holds her hand out to him and he steps forward automatically as a moth drawn to a flame. “Jefferson? What’s wrong?”

He blinks and finds he’s taken her hand and had been staring at her. “Nothing.” Turning his focus to the woman on the sofa regarding him. It’s obvious enough that the hurt in her eyes is being restrained as best as she’s able. Standing there next to Priscilla can’t be helping. Feeling torn between the past and future, it’s certainly overwhelming to them both.

Slackening his hand, he removes his hand from Priscilla’s to step closer to Ariel. He kneels upon one knee before Ariel to look her solemnly in the eyes. He holds out one hand before her which she hesitantly takes with a quick look towards Priscilla. This is such an odd feeling to be acting in front of these two women, but he can’t act differently than he would have to a perfect stranger. He takes a deep breath, feeling completely wary all of a sudden. “I promise you, we’ll find him.”

Ariel covers her mouth with her free hand as tears fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks. With a hasty nod, she covers her eyes. Jefferson squeezes her hand again, unable to say much else to support her in front of his past love.

He looks over his shoulder and up at Priscilla. She’s wringing her hands. With a nod to Jefferson, Priscilla moves to the window bench and lifts it to retrieve a length of fabric. The old wrap she would use to carry Grace to be exact. His heart clenches again as he recalled how she would wear their daughter in it. Hastily donning the wrap, Priscilla moves to carefully tuck Grace in it.

“Ariel, you okay?” he whispers turning his attention back to her.

She only wipes the tears from her face and attempts a smile. “The Sheriff of Nottingham, Jefferson. He’s here. How do we stop him now when he hasn’t even done anything wrong yet?”

He only shakes his head, a grim expression on his lips. He had plenty of ideas on what to do. None of them would be good for his past self or for the future--Arison’s included.

Standing, he walks uncertainly over to Priscilla and Grace, his eyes staying on his daughter. It was easier to look at her than Priscilla. This woman, whom he had loved with all of his heart and soul, had sacrificed herself to save him after he had foolishly gone to Wonderland and repeatedly ignored her pleas to leave and return to Grace. He can’t let all of that which they went through be in vain.

His fingers cup the back of Grace’s small head as he watches the little girl’s eyes as she smiles up at him. How he’d like to hold her in this moment to remember how small she had been, but he wouldn’t take her from Priscilla. Instead, the faint trace of a smile lights his face as he bends to kiss the baby’s head.

With lips thinned into a line, his eyes move up to meet Priscilla’s. She is watching his eyes with a slight raise to her eyebrow as she studies his face. A question is lingering on the tip of her tongue, he can tell, but she bites her lip keeping whatever unspoken question she has to herself with a slight shake of her head.

He knew her so well at one time, he can recognize what he assumes she is thinking. He should look somewhat different to her now. He is older now than when she knew him, but fortunately, she doesn’t voice this concern.

In an effort to draw her attention away from his features, he speaks lowly to her. To impress upon her his insistence, he carefully places his palm on her bicep. Touching her again, it’s almost like touching a ghost and it sends a slight chill through him. “I don’t want you to get involved in this. I’ll go. You stay here with Grace. Keep her safe.”

She raises her lip in incredulity over such a demand. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jefferson. She’ll be perfectly safe in town with us. This woman needs our help and I intend to do just that.” With a smart nod, she spins away from him breaking his contact with her arm. She was never one to be told what to do.

Facing Ariel again, Jefferson exhales in defeat, shaking his head. Ariel smirks at him but says nothing as she stands up from the couch to sidle up next to him. Just his luck to be involved with two fiery, strong-willed redheads in his long lifetime.

“Priscilla? Can I help you with anything?” Ariel calls out as she follows after the woman towards the front door.

The two women chatter about things as Jefferson shakes his head and moves towards the kitchen cabinets to tuck some food provisions in his pockets for later should they need them.

When he leaves the kitchen, he spots Priscilla looking at his hat upon the rack by the front door in puzzlement while Ariel talks in distraction to Priscilla. His wife glances over her shoulder at Jefferson as he approaches. A look of disapproval is in her eyes. He has a sudden feeling of the husband that will be getting a talking-to when they have a moment alone, but why should he? It’s his hat and where he had always stored it while in the house. Somehow, he had done something wrong in this time. Whatever it is, he cannot risk leaving the hat in this time if they should find a way out before returning to the house, so he snags the hat and flips it upon his head as he steps out onto the porch.

Once outside, he recalls that he has a horse and buggy with which to transport them to town and it would be expected of him to drive. Heading towards the shed, Priscilla calls out. “Where are you going?” He looks back to her face to find she is giving him an embarrassed, wide-eyed look. He knows that expression. He’s doing something wrong once again and in front of Ariel whom Priscilla views as a guest. Scrambling to remember why fetching the horse is a problem, Priscilla notices his fretful expression and sighs. “We sold Maybelle and her buggy last week, Jefferson.”

“Oh… right.” This was about the time when their finances were beginning to dwindle well below middle-class standing as he had just given up hat-portalling in order to provide Grace with a safer life with both parents rather than risking their lives for the dangerous thieving and realm jumping profession. They would have another year in this house before they would be forced to move out into the meager hut. It is no wonder the hat on the rack was incorrect. It should be stored away in the closet at this time, yet he is now wearing it. “Apologies, dear.” He steps back up to Priscilla and pats her back as they begin the walk into town.

“Is...everything okay?” she asks quietly.

He nods and offers a slight smile of reassurance to her, but looks away to close off from this discussion in hopes that she won’t pursue it.

After a few moments of silence, his eyes meet Ariel’s profile on the other side of Priscilla. Ariel’s hands are clasped before herself as she fidgets with her bracelet, twisting the cuff and touching the pearls upon it. She appears to be anxious with her brow furrowed as she looks ahead, and Jefferson could not blame her for that.

A commotion meets his ears just as they reach the end of the drive. By the sound of it, Doc Brown is carrying on over his DeLorean, but was thankfully out of sight through the trees. “Hmm, I wonder what’s got Mister Smith worked up.” Priscilla mumbles. Their old neighbor would be living in that house in this time. Not yet Emmett Brown.

\---

After a quiet walk towards the village, Ariel notices that it seems no different than it will in the future. Hawkers still call out for buyers to visit their carts. The bakery Ariel frequented weekly is the same as always. Her mind wanders to her little boy as he would run up to meet her there after his lessons five days per week.

A welling of emotion strikes her chest at the thought and she held her breath to hold it in. Priscilla must have noticed, as the kind woman--much taller than Ariel--lays her hand on Ariel’s shoulder. “Don’t fret, dear. We will find him. What is your son’s name?”  
A choke is emitted from Ariel’s lips as she tries to say the name. “Aris…” Her hand covers her mouth.

“Arison.” Jefferson mumbles to help finish the name. His voice is low and quiet. His posture makes him appear spent.

A questioning look to Priscilla’s eyes is turned toward Jefferson, but she doesn’t voice the query. Instead, Priscilla dips her head and squeezes Ariel’s shoulder. “We will find Arison. Don’t worry.”

A few steps brings them to the open doorway of the Sheriff. “Wait here,” Jefferson says with a stern tone to his voice. The look he shoots their way indicates that he knows the two women won’t listen, and adds, “Please.”

After Ariel nods, Jefferson turns on his heel to enter. A sharp cursing emits from within a moment later to reveal Jefferson approaching the doorway in a hurry. “The ‘good’ sheriff,” sarcasm laces his tone pointedly, “has been incapacitated within.”

“Incapacitated? He’s alive?” Ariel’s pace quickens as she jogs after Jefferson’s retreating figure.

He nods quickly and looks to see that Priscilla is attempting to keep up, but with Grace upon her chest, she is slower.

With his back to Priscilla, he looks pointedly at Ariel and speaks quickly as his wife approaches. “The future sheriff was here. His past self was mumbling in madness on the floor.”

The paradox Emmett had mentioned. Perhaps this is the start of one.

“I’m going to ask my friend at the flower shop to watch Grace,” Priscilla pipes up as she catches up.

“No! No, no.” Jefferson shakes his head in sudden worry as he grips Priscilla’s hands. Ariel can see the fear in his eyes for some reason over this suggestion. “Please don’t let her out of your sight. I can’t… We can’t risk that if there is a kidnapper on the loose. Please. Go home and stay in the house with her. I need you to stay safe.” His eyes are pleading as he kneads her hands between his.

Ariel can see the stubborn set to Priscilla’s shoulders as she is likely about to protest. Ariel would protest as well if the roles were reversed. She certainly can empathize with both of them. As this is not her place to be watching such an exchange, she turns away from them and wanders over towards the well in the center of the village, not too far from where the couple spoke.

She leans her hip against the side wall of the stone well continuing to fidget with her bracelet as she watches them discuss Grace out of earshot.

Ariel has been without Jefferson for years. Why does the way he looks at Priscilla get under her skin? The past month of their reunion had been so focused on finding Arison, that she hadn’t considered Jefferson’s role in her life to be more than her son’s father helping to get him back. There had been no time to build any semblance of a relationship again. She trusts Jefferson more than anything, but… Could she trust herself with opening her heart to him again?

With his wife alive at the moment, it is too difficult to consider such a thing as he seems even more off-limits than he ever had been before.

She feels numb to love at the moment. It is her only defense against breaking down in her loss. The only thing on her mind is getting her son back. Yet, they had been united in their common goal over the past month in finding Arison together. They had supported each other through the continuing difficult trials that are before them, but now, it all seems so different in this time.

Jefferson and Priscilla continue to speak. It is obvious they are arguing with hand gestures and sharp looks towards each other. Some gestures are made at his hat upon his head. A few looks are tossed Ariel’s way so she looks away towards the bakery. She doesn’t want to be in the middle of their argument.

When she looks back a few moments later, they are embracing with Grace between them and Jefferson places a kiss to Priscilla’s forehead. His hand cups her cheek as he says something else to her. Priscilla nods with emotion in her eyes. The woman wipes hastily at her eyes and smiles at him in a clear effort at composure. Then, they approach Ariel at the well. Ariel stands again and waits nervously.

Priscilla is the first to speak up. Jefferson remains quietly at her side as his eyes watch Ariel’s. The emotion in his eyes is very distracting. She nearly grabs his hand to offer her own comforts, but controls her action and clasps her own hands together as she turns her attention to Priscilla who had been speaking.

“We are going to lead you to someone that may be able to help you find Arison. Then, I will take Grace home. But please, send my husband back home safely. We need him.” She turns her face towards Jefferson and touches his bicep. His face turns back towards Priscilla but he keeps his mouth shut as he watches her silently.

\---

“Who is it that will help me?” Ariel asks quietly as they approach the woods.

Jefferson leans closer to Ariel’s ear. “You’ll recognize him. Someone we all know too well.”

While he feels the need to be cryptic around Priscilla, he also knows this ‘old friend’ too well to speak his name while the past versions of his wife and child are present. He can’t risk their involvement in this. He squeezes Ariel’s arm in hopes that she’ll stay put and give him a moment to say goodbye to his past. Ariel nods and turns away to study a nearby tree.

Jefferson faces Priscilla with a barely audible sigh escaping his lips. How could he possibly say goodbye to her a second time? At least she is still living this time. The first time he said goodbye had been one of the worst moments in time for him as she lay dying in his arms of the March Hare’s staircase.

He uncomfortably scratches the back of his head as his eyes remain on his little Grace who sleeps peacefully against Priscilla’s chest. Her little eyes are closed, but her mouth is opened in quiet slumber. He cups Grace’s downy hair once more and smiles upon her in adoration.

Sighing again, he moves his eyes towards Priscilla. She speaks up first as usual. “Jefferson… I know something is going on. More than what is seen here. Promise me you’ll come home. Don’t use that hat again.”

“I’m not going to use it. You’ll see me again. I promise.” He doesn’t say that he himself will see her again as he can’t bring himself to lie to her.

Priscilla seems satisfied with this as she smiles at him and nods. She reaches for him and he steps into her embrace again. While he must admit to himself that his walls are up in this moment with Priscilla, they falter when she presses her lips to his. He closes his eyes to stop the wetness from spilling from his eyes. She can’t see that emotion from him or she will not let him proceed with this. He knows she will be too concerned to leave and that could affect their own timeline.

His hand cups her cheek as he kisses her back. The decades that had separated them feel non-existent in this moment as he remembers how they used to be together. She had been everything to him. She and their Grace. But neither of them in this time belong to him, so he breaks the kiss and gives her a crooked grin as he would have done at one time. His thumb brushes her chin and his eyes fall upon the sleeping baby again. “See you both soon,” he calls to Priscilla as he takes a few steps backward and away from them.

Assured, Priscilla waves at him. Her eyes move in concern back to Ariel as she politely continues to find interest in the flora surrounding them, then back toward Jefferson. She dips her head and smiles then turns to leave the forest.

Jefferson’s shoulders slump in a mixture of emotions as he watches her depart for the last time from his sight. A moment later, a rustling of the leaves meet his ears. His hands find his pockets while a hand is lain tentatively upon his shoulder.

“Jefferson?” Ariel starts. He turns to watch her with his head dipped in thought. “Is it Rumpelstiltskin that we’re seeking?”

He nods. “I knew him well. By this time period, I had already ceased my employment with him so my presence may be surprising to him.”

Ariel remains quiet for only a moment as she watches him. “It’s going to be okay. I don’t think we have affected your past with Priscilla and Grace.”

“You’re offering me assurances?” He chuckles as he removes a hand from a pocket to place companionably across Ariel’s back as he guides her deeper into the forest. “We’re in the same boat, so to speak.”

“Of course we are, but I know that wasn’t easy for you. Seeing your past…”

“In this time, right now, they aren’t mine. There’s a version of me in this land that will be home with them soon. They belong to him. You, however…” He pulls Ariel closer to him and moves his hand through her hair as he watches the light play in the tendrils. “Well… I think we are still…”

He seems to be having trouble with his confidence at the moment as his emotions have been brought too far into focus for his tastes.

Ariel places her hand over his as it moves through her hair. “We?” Her eyes, wide as they are, watch his carefully.

He licks his lip in thought as he tries to form words. They aren’t making themselves available to him. “We are, aren’t we?” He is usually much more eloquent than this and with a sharp wit to boot. He shakes his head and narrows his eyes as he glances down for a moment. With determination, he looks back to her eyes. “I will be there for you, Ariel. I won’t leave you. We’ll find Arison. We’ll find a way back to Storybrooke. I want Grace to meet him. And you.” His hand moves to Ariel’s temple, then to brush back the hair that seemed out of place.

Ariel grins widely at him and nods as her hand moves to his wrist. “I want that too. But first, let’s find him.” She looks confident in this moment which adds to Jefferson’s confidence. They can do this. They just need more help.

“Alright.” As much as he’d like to kiss Ariel in this moment, and he can tell by the look in her eyes that she would be accepting of that, he drops his hands from her and moves his attention to the surrounding forest.

“Rumpelstiltskin! I’d like a word!” A grin begins to spread across his face at the anticipation of seeing his old employer. He had thought the man to nearly be a friend. They had never had a cross word exchanged between them so long as Jefferson remained respectful, but he had always had a carefree attitude towards the Dark One. For some reason, Rumpel had humored him. Perhaps it was all about the hat and his ability to take Rumpel to other lands, to find trinkets that would aid him in finding such a land without magic.

Now he knows that this purpose was to help Rumpel find his lost son, but back then, Jefferson never knew what his obsession with finding a land without magic was about and the Dark One had merely responded with a smug, “My business.” Now that Jefferson knows, perhaps he can use this knowledge as leverage. Though extreme care must be made when discussing a sensitive subject to such a man. He knows Rumpel well enough that discussing his son with him would not be taken lightly.

A giggle is heard just behind them. Ariel gasps just as Jefferson spins around to look upon the glittering skin of the Dark One who regards them with his blackened fingernail pointed toward the sky in a curious gesture.

“Hello again, Dearie. Thought ye said you were done with your dealings with me for the sake of your little girl.” His musical voice has a lingering sense of humor as his intense green eyes move towards Ariel beside Jefferson. “And look who you’ve decided to join forces with. A mermaid! How splendid!” Rumple’s hands clapped together in his apparent excitement. “To what do I owe the visit? Hmm?”

Jefferson snorts a dry laugh as he watches the way his old acquaintance’s eyes light up in amusement and curiosity. “We’re in need of your help.”

“Aht, aht, ahhh,” Rumpel’s finger waggles at him. “Ye’ve never come to me for help before, Dearie. That’s why I liked ye so much.”

Jefferson purses his lips and waits until he has a moment to explain, but humors Rumpel in his assessment.

“So…” The Dark One circles around the couple as he eyes them in his assessment. “You’ve come to me for something you can’t solve yourself. What could that be…” Once in front of Ariel again, he eyes her suspiciously. “Certainly two resourceful realm jumpers--or swimmer, as the case may be--could solve a myriad of problems.” He snaps his fingers as he raises his hand. “I’ve got it. You’ve fallen ‘madly’ in love and ye don’t want your wife to find out.”

“Uh,” Ariel starts, but looks over to Jefferson worriedly.

“That’s not the problem,” Jefferson answers with a bored tone. He is actually finding his own amusement over Rumpel’s mind.

“Oh, I think I’m right. I know what’s in the cards for you both, Dearies, and your wife is not in the picture… Yet, she is… How interesting.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile as he watches Jefferson. “So, what is it ye need? A forgetting potion?”

“No. What we need is time.”

“Time, time. If I had control over time, don’t ye think I would’ve manipulated it by now? Surely, Jefferson, you should know that.”

Ariel surges forward then and wraps her hands around Rumpelstiltskin’s, which not only surprises the Dark One but Jefferson as well. He stands there in shock as he watches Ariel. “Please. My son has been kidnapped. We think by the Sheriff and he…” Her eyes move to Jefferson’s briefly. “He and my son manipulated time and came back here. To the past with him.”

“Time travel? But it simply isn’t possible!”

“Look me deep in the eyes and tell me that I’m lying to you.” Ariel usually was not this bold, but this is a desperate moment. Jefferson stood there blinking at her. “The future Sheriff has kidnapped my son and taken him. The timeline is at stake here. It affects you as well.”

“Me? How so?” Rumple’s fingers move to his own jaw as he takes his hands out of her grasp. He studies her curiously in her boldness. Ariel looks at Jefferson worriedly.

“If the timeline is changed, it could affect you and your _purpose_ behind creating the Dark Curse.” As much as Jefferson loathed saying that with all of his being, for it had been what separated him from his Grace for 28 years of hell in Storybrooke, it was necessary for Arison ever being brought into the world. He cannot erase that time from his life. In addition, he hopes that Rumpel will catch his emphasis on the word, ‘purpose.’ He is one father pleading to another.

“And how the _hell_ do you know about that?!” Rumpel snapped with incredulity towards Jefferson.

“I’m from the future. I know a lot more than I did in this time.”

“Don’t tell me another word! I cannot know more. Except… you’re telling me that this curse does happen, aren’t you? No! Don’t tell me! I’ll have to drink that forgetting potion myself!” Rumpel waves his hands into the air as if dismissing such revealing thoughts.

“I’ve never liked the sheriff anyway. He reminds me of a slug. Now! Let’s find your boy.” A note of sadness covers Rumpel’s features only for a moment before the dark grin returns with a single, booming clap of his hands.

A small orb appears in his hand. In a quick motion, Rumpel reaches out and snags a hair from the top of Jefferson’s head.

“Ow!”

“Nevermind that, Dearie. You know magic always comes with a price and since you have asked, I accept.”

“What do you mean?” he asks as he rubs his offended scalp.

“I know the boy is yours, or will be, with the mermaid. And Dearie, I’ll be needing a hair from you as well. The price shall not only be yours to pay if I decline my assistance, but also mine. Therefore, count this as a freebee.” His voice turns flat at the end of his statement. He uncurls his fingers towards Ariel who nods and yanks a hair from her head to lay upon the open palm. She watches the orb curiously as Rumpel places the two hairs across the orb.

The hairs intertwine and with a quick flash of color, they sink into the orb. An image appears in the opaque ball. Ariel leans forward in quiet awe as the figure shifts into meaning. Her eyes widen suddenly as she exclaims, “That’s him! It’s Arison!” She looks up to Rumpel for an explanation.

“He’s in this realm, Dearie. You’re right about that. But! Ye better move fast. Your lad is quite the powerful one and he’s learning much about himself on this voyage. Eh. I’d like to meet him myself as he could prove useful in my own needs…”

“But that would change your own future,” Ariel pleads with him. “We aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Mmmm...You’re right. You do need to get out of this time quickly. I’ll send you to confront the Sheriff who also does not belong here. Pour this upon him.” Rumpel snaps his fingers of his free hand to produce a small vial of sparkling black dust and offers that to Ariel with a curl of a grin in his eyes. “Do be careful with that. It’s Black Fairy dust. Very powerful.”

Ariel takes it, but hesitantly. “Wh-- What does it do?”

“Why, it will render the sheriff harmless, of course! Now, hurry along. Get your boy and get out. See you in the future, Jefferson…” The last thing Jefferson and Ariel see is the knowing grin before his stained teeth as his hand whips upwards and they vanish.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Ahhhh here is the conclusion and Epilogue of the story. Thank you so much for those of you that have been patiently waiting. Enjoy!_  
>  -AA

One moment Ariel is captivated by Rumpelstiltskin’s words that he will help them. The next, the reverberation of his fingers snapping echoes through her body. The instant transport to another location is so different from realm jumping with Jefferson and crossing water portals, that it takes her a moment to realize where she now stands--evidently in a barn.  
It is very good for her sake that Jefferson recovered from the change in location faster than she has. Jefferson’s shout of, “Look out!” reaches her ears a moment after realizing where she is. A bodily impact strikes her and lands her quickly into the straw covered ground. 

He had plowed into her knocking her out of the way of the swinging of a sword! The blade had struck Jefferson in the coat sleeve, she sees, as he grips the ripped material. 

“Where is my son?” Jefferson’s voice sounds nearly a moan laced with anger. His expression certainly is angry as he glares at the man before him. It’s the sheriff, yet… something is different about him. Off. He doesn’t look quite the same as he did a couple of years ago when she had last seen him - when Arison’s portal had sucked him away. His eyes are wider, more of the sclera shows in his eyes. He also looked much much older than a few years should have effected upon him. There are traces of madness now that had not been there before.

“What happened to you?” Ariel mumbles aloud to the man as she stands from the dirt and straw littered ground. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it is enough for the man to snap his attention towards her.

“Oh, your son? He’s what happened to me. Don’t you remember, Ariel? He opened that portal over my head and sent me away. To Wonderland. A living hell of strange beasts, carnivorous plants, and gangster insects--and one particularly sadistic maniac that had a penchant for butchered hare’s ears for headgear.”

Jefferson’s hand falters from where he grips his injured arm. 

The sheriff notices and cracks a grin, pointing at Jefferson. “I know you know exactly what I know. We’re on the same page. Same cup of tea repetitively offered and demanded to be drank. But not a sip can be had. Isn’t that right, Jefferson? You know of whom I speak. Say his name!”

Jefferson’s lips firm together as he watches the madness and listens to the words flow from the sheriff’s mouth. He says nothing, but it is obvious enough to Ariel that the words are bringing Jefferson back to a place he didn’t want to imagine again. To save him from this, she grips his slackened hand and says the name for him. “March Hare.”

This sends the sheriff into another laughing fit. “Yes! I met him! He told me all about you, dear Jefferson. You were quite special to him, weren’t you? But you got away. I wasn’t so lucky. I lost track of how many times the Clock was turned back. Evermore did time turn back, over and over and over and over.” He wipes a sleeve across his sweating brow as the gangly man begins to circle around Ariel and Jefferson; the latter continues to stand there staring into nothing as he listens. Ariel tugs at his arm, but receives no acknowledgement.

“Over again until I couldn’t take it anymore, Jefferson. I broke the rope. I broke the cup. I broke the Hare.” His voice takes on a low growl as his eyes hood stepping within Ariel’s field of vision again. Cheshire’s riddling words about the March Hare ring familiarity to Ariel. He had suggested that the Hare was dead. And now they know how. “I killed the March Hare, took his Clock of Evermore and reversed time until I was no longer in Wonderland. I was back in Storybrooke, but the effects of the Clock upon my body were not so kind.”

“Nor was it kind to your mind,” Ariel mumbles. 

“Shut up!” The sheriff backhands Ariel causing her to gasp and grip her cheek. 

That seems to have snapped Jefferson out of his stupor. He lunges forward gripping the mad sheriff by the lapels of his jacket, growling his words between clenched teeth. “Where the hell is my son? You tell me right now or you’re not leaving this barn.”

“Oh, he’s around. He’s been helpful. When that curse brought us back to the Enchanted Forest, I was able to get my revenge on the little shit for sending me through that hell in the first place. You see, while I no longer had the Clock in my possession any longer, lost in the jumps--” He shrugs as he pushes Jefferson’s hands roughly off of himself. “I didn’t need the Clock to manipulate time any longer. I knew where a time manipulator and portal jumper lived. It was too easy!” 

A fist connecting to the sheriff’s face stops his amusement for a moment, but only long enough for the sheriff to spit blood to the ground. “Mind your temper, Hatter. Your boy is watching.” 

Ariel gasps and looks around herself, but sees no sign of him. “Arison!” she calls with desperation making her voice short. “Answer me!”

“I needed him to take me back in time. Back when I was youthful again.” The sheriff’s grin becomes a bit too wide for Ariel’s interest in watching him.

“You’ve gone mad from your attempts at controlling time,” Ariel says carefully with a glance toward Jefferson. Why is he being so quiet?

“Probable,” the man shrugs again.

“You had it all wrong though. Your body won’t change by going back in time. You found your younger self, but he’s not you and you’re no longer him.” Ariel attempts reason, but when does reasoning with a madman ever work? She seems to only be agitating him as he runs his hands roughly through his hair. Jefferson meanwhile takes a sidestep, but remains quiet.

“I found myself. Something happened. I felt a ripping sensation.” He grips his chest over his heart with one hand and his temple with the other.

“Paradox,” Ariel supplies helpfully. “Doc says you can’t see yourself, or else… space time continuous…”

“Continuum,” Jefferson corrects. “You messed up, Keith. You’re going to die. That’s what that pain was.”

This doesn’t sit well with the sheriff - Jefferson had called him Keith. The man shakes his head as he looks sharply towards the rafters in the old barn. Ariel follows his line of sight. There sits Arison crouched low watching with huge eyes. The poor child is obviously scared.

“This is your fault!” Keith screams, pointing a finger up at Arison who promptly hides his face.

“No,” Ariel declares boldly. She raises her fist boldly as she holds up the vial Rumpelstiltskin had given her. The black fairy dust. 

Jefferson’s eyes widen as he spots her hand and the object she holds. He gives the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of his head in the negative just before his eyes roam up to Arison. 

Keith does not seem to notice Ariel’s protestation as he continues towards the ladder to the loft. “You did this to me! You’ve nearly killed me, you brat!”

A flare of indignation rises in Ariel. Her child is no brat, never has been, never would be. He’s kind hearted, innocent, and never would deserve to have such a dangerous curse of being capable of manipulating time. Her eyes shoot to Jefferson again. He knows how to handle manipulation of space. Emmett even knows how to manipulate time. It isn’t that Arison doesn’t deserve his… gift, but that he hasn’t been properly trained. If Ariel hadn’t been restricted as she is, she could even teach her son. 

Jefferson cups Ariel’s hand as she wars with herself on if she could do it, but her thumb has already flicked the cork out of the vial. She has but to rotate her wrist and the dust would be upon the sheriff. Whatever it does, Rumpelstiltskin had said it will leave him incapable of harming. Innocent enough. Why does Jefferson stop her?

His eyes show great concern. The dust wouldn’t kill, would it? 

But, what Jefferson does surprises Ariel. He does not take the vial from her to prohibit her from using it, but he seems to be telling her with his grip over her hand that he will do this with her. Whatever the dust does, he will share the blame with her if she chooses. 

Keith grabs the ladder placing a boot upon the bottommost rung. “I’m going to make you pay. Ever wanted to fly before, Arison? You’re about to!”

“No, he isn’t!” Ariel says defiantly. She glances quickly to Jefferson again who has kept his eyes on her. She gives him a quick nod and the two of them simultaneously move their hands; the dust shoots forth from the vial and encircles Keith wrapping, twisting, and shrinking. The man does not make a sound and for a moment, Ariel assumes he has disappeared. But no, he has not. A small greyish brown… thing sits upon the straw.

“Slug,” Jefferson states leaning over slightly to observe.

“Oh.” So that is what Rumpelstiltskin meant. Perhaps she should feel guilty, but perhaps later. At the moment, her son is terrified. “Arison! It’s okay now! The bad man is gone!”

“Mama!” 

Jefferson climbs the ladder quickly and just as his head is over the loft floor, Arison has crawled over to him. Jefferson loops an arm around his son and less than ten seconds later, they are both in Ariel’s arms.

~~

“How do I look?” Ariel studies Jefferson with much more of a critical eye than he is comfortable in receiving. He waits a moment longer before blinking rather impatiently, shooting her an expression to get on with it already. 

She cracks a grin and throws her arms around his neck. “I love it. You’ll make a fine courtesan.”

“That is the last thing I wanted to hear, Ariel.” He rolls his eyes half heartedly, but rewards her with a quick peck upon the lips as his hands meet her waist in appreciation of her affection. 

Loosening an arm from his neck, she twists at the waist just enough to lift his hat from the table behind her and fits it upon his head. He grins at her and shoots her his best charming wink. 

“Well, we are going to court, and if it’s anything like my father’s court, you have to dress the part.”

“What could merpeople possibly dress in?” His voice remains low as he eyes the way her hair is swept to the side, a rhinestone encrusted comb holding her locks back from her neck. “Strategically placed shells?”

“The women decorate their hair and wear pearls, or found treasures in my case.” She smirks as her fingers have found their way into adjusting his scarf.

“These are Storybrooke people, you know. And David’s kind of an asshole.”

“Jefferson! He’s the king here now! You can’t speak of him like that.”

“Doesn’t change the facts. He tried to choke me to force me to get my hat to work once.”

“I’m sure you’re fine.” She smirks as she looks in the mirror at their reflections. 

“You look fine,” he mumbles as he steps up behind her. His hands run along her corseted waistline and over her hips. His lips finding her bared neck as he grumbles low in his chest.

A juvenile clearing of the throat behind them has Jefferson righting himself, but he keeps his hands on Ariel’s waist as he looks to his son.

“Is this… right?” the boy asks. An unsure expression traces his face, perhaps even distaste at the finery he wears. 

“Yes, my son. You look very handsome,” Ariel states with a proud smile lighting her eyes.

“I was asking Papa,” the boy deadpans.

Jefferson chuckles and releases Ariel to kneel before his son. The boy is very serious in demeanor for five. He’s been through a lot already and the burden of recent events seems to be slipping from the boy’s memory with each day that passes. Each day, he sleeps longer at night, the exhaustion that had wracked his small body slipping away to be replaced by a more talkative and inquisitive young boy.

Fixing the boy’s doublet, Jefferson grins. “I believe you look dashing, Arison.”

“Not as dashing as you, Papa. You’ve got a hat.”

Jefferson smirks with interest as a thought crosses his mind. “Why don’t you wear it for me until we get to the castle?”

Arison’s eyes light up as Jefferson fits the hat upon the boy’s head. It is too large for him, but if it is tilted just so, it remains on without hindering his sight. 

“One day, this will fit you better,” Jefferson assures him. “But for now, keep it safe for me. It’s a very special hat that is going to help a lot of people get home.”

“But… Mama said the hat has rules. Will it fit the whole village in it?”

“Why, yes it will. We’ll find out from the King and Queen how many subjects will need transporting, and that’s exactly how many we’ll take back to Storybrooke with us.”

“But… Doesn’t that mean if you ever wanted to use it again, you have to have that many again?”

“You’re very smart, Arison.” Jefferson sends a crediting smile towards Ariel who nods to him. “But, I won’t need the hat anymore. We’ll have everything we need right there with us. We’ll be able to visit your sister who is in school. She can visit us. Storybrooke is part of a land where we can be together.”

“As a family,” Ariel agrees as she steps up to place a hand on Jefferson’s shoulder.

Standing, Jefferson places a hand on Arison’s silk-clad shoulder to guide him from the yellow house. “Now, Doc is waiting to drive us to the castle.”

“Drive?” Arison asks rather scandalized for a five year old. “You mean I get to go in the Delorean?”

“Yes, you do,” Ariel adds. “Imagine what the townsfolk that weren’t in Storybrooke will think.” She chuckles as they shut the door to the yellow house behind them for what he suspects will be the last time. As much as it saddens Jefferson to say goodbye to the house once again, he has found peace in doing so. A sense of closure fills him and he is okay with this. He isn’t leaving out of being incapable of upkeeping it any longer; he has plenty of money to his name in Storybrooke. He isn’t moving into a straw-floored hut as he did the last time he left the yellow house; he and his family have the Storybrooke mansion waiting. It is more than enough space for the three of them. Four when Grace comes home to visit. 

And he finds the prospect of bringing his family to the mansion… freeing. No longer will it be a place where he feels trapped, loathes to dwell in in loneliness of solitude amongst the many rooms. It will be filled with laughter, and love, and companionship.

A whirring of an engine reaches his ears as the Delorean bounces its way across the lawns through the treeline that separates the two properties. Doc waves frantically from the window. “You won’t believe it! I’ve found a solution to the veggie dilemma!” The car jerks to a stop just before the family of three and the door swings up and open. “Get in! I’ll tell you about it on the way!”

The three of them pile in. Arison sits in the front seat with Einstein with strict instructions not to touch anything. 

“So what’s the solution?” Jefferson asks, knuckling Doc’s shoulder from the back seat.

“A clock! Of all things, a damn clock!” 

“You have a clock in that screen, Doc.”

“No, no, Jefferson! Get your head outta your ass and listen to me! An old fashioned pocket watch but one of catastrophic greatness and destruction if used improperly. The effects this thing has is heavy!”

“Pocket watches aren’t heavy,” Arison adds helpfully.

“Doc… Are you telling me--” Jefferson cuts himself off as he looks uneasily to Ariel who has started chewing the edge of her thumbnail. 

Doc demonstrates by flipping the panel of the screen off. Jefferson could swear his stomach drops at the sight, his chest so constricted with shock, that he can barely form another word.

“But. But that’s the Clock,” Ariel starts.

“Yes, it’s a pocket watch.”

“No, Doc. Doc! You have no idea what you’ve got there!” Jefferson groans as he makes like he’s going to grab it, but Doc slaps his hand with the panel causing Jefferson to yank his hand back.

All seriousness has taken over Doc Brown’s tone of voice and posture as he eyes his passengers seriously. “I know what this device is. It contains more power than all the plutonium I’ve ever used. Moreso. I daresay--and as a scientist, this is not something I take lightly--but it’s on the verge of...magic.” He whispers that last word as if he could be discredited among scientists for considering the possibility of something so preposterous. “And it beats having to steal plutonium from Libyan nationalists.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes. “I’ve met another scientist that is of the same mindset. I’m not going to judge you, Doc. Magic exists.”

“Riiiiight. Anyway, sit back, relax. We’re hittin’ the road and are gonna shock the hell out of some old-fashioned squares on the way.” The time display panel is replaced concealing the Clock of Evermore within and to Jefferson’s relief, out of his sight. 

“Are you going to come with us to Storybrooke, Doc?” Arison asks as he runs his hands along Einstein’s coat.

“I am. I’ve been there before.”

“You have? When?” Jefferson asks in confusion. 

“Where do you think the Delorean came from? It isn’t from the Enchanted Forest.”

“All that metal. And the newspapers…” He recalls seeing 1955 on one of them. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me you’re from a land without magic?”

“Of course, I am! You brought me here. You just don’t know it yet because it hasn’t happened in your timeline yet.”

“Great Scott,” Arison mumbles. 

“This is heavy,” Jefferson agrees. In such a case, his hat must not become useless. He would have to transport nearly one hundred people again sometime in the future. 

“Weight has nothing to do with it.” Doc chuckles and shifts the Delorean into gear.

~~

“Thank you, Jefferson. This means a lot to the kingdom.” David squeezes Jefferson’s shoulder and Jefferson would very much like to step back, but with Ariel at his side and Emma grinning with a thousand gigawatt smile, Jefferson remains where he stands. “But--” David starts again with some resignation in his voice. “Mostly because Emma is ready to go home.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Emma slides a smile to her father. “Sheriffing is more my style. Not this… princess gig.”

“I dunno, Swan. I’d wager anything suits you,” the pirate states with a cheeky grin to her. 

“Killian’s ready to go, too. We can’t find his ship anywhere so we assume it was left behind in Storybrooke. You sure your hat can handle this?”

“Of course it can,” Jefferson retorts, somewhat offended by the slight. “As long as I’m escorting, it’ll work.”

“Why didn’t you offer as soon as we got here?”

“No one asked.” He shrugs with indifference. He won’t admit aloud that it was due to his own disheartened envy that they all had their loved ones and he had nothing.

Ariel elbows Jefferson to which he sighs. “Fine. I’m offering now. How long until you have everyone ready?”

“They are ready now. We’ve had a headcount done and everyone is accounted for.” David makes a motion which sends the Dwarves into action, rounding everyone up from where they conversed in the courtyard of the castle.

“What’s Marty McFly doing here?” Emma asks with a particular scrunching of her nose as she gestures at Doc leaning against the Delorean. 

“The sorcerer?” Killian asks. Jefferson doesn’t understand where that supposition comes from and ignores the pirate.

“That’s Doc Brown.”

“But… he’s like… my age. Doc Brown has wiry white hair.”

“Blame Hollywood for messing up history. This is the real Doc Brown. Or maybe the younger version of the Doc Hollywood produced. He’s going with us. Evidently, I brought him here sometime in my future, so…” Jefferson scratches his head in confusion over the situation.

“Yeah, nevermind. I don’t need to know. Let’s just get this over with so I can eat some fried food. I’d kill for some onion rings.” Emma glances over her shoulder to spot Henry talking to a girl.

“Stand back,” Jefferson announces as he pulls the top hat from Arison’s head and carefully sets it upon the ground. 

Arison clings to Ariel’s side watching with eager interest. 

Doc climbs back into the Delorean and starts the engine.

Snow announces for everyone to line up.

The anticipation to use the hat again builds in Jefferson’s chest. The thrill of jumping gets to him every time. And this time won’t be his last. “Here we go. Stand back!” he states louder as the hat begins to spin emitting a purple smoke. 

He steps back as the hat stretches, growing wider and wobbling as it adjusts into the portal. He waves to David who signals for the people to enter. When all but Jefferson and his family and Doc remain, the Delorean drives into the portal next, followed by the family of three linked hand in hand. 

~~

_**Epilogue**_

The sound of the front door slamming catches Ariel’s ears. She pats Jefferson’s thigh as he lays against her back. The rhythmic sounds of sleeping breath stop at her words. “Jefferson. Someone’s here.” 

He raises his head from the pillow and presses a button on his wrist watch illuminating the screen. “It’s midnight.”

“I know. But the front door shut.” She sits up, pulling the sheet with her, leaving Jefferson exposed and bereft from his warm blanket-and-woman-cocoon as she wraps the sheet around herself to tip toe in a hurry towards the window.

Jefferson sits up, his bare feet hitting the Oriental rug as he reaches for his shorts with a groan. “Storybrooke isn’t one for high crime. Er-- not lately anyway.” Now clad in his shorts, he joins Ariel at the window to peer out. Headlights indicate a car is reversing from the driveway and back onto the main road. Yellow lights upon the roof blink on revealing the words ‘BOSTON CAB CO.’ 

“Oh. Boston! It’s Grace!” he whispers loudly. “She’s home!”

The pair scramble to dress themselves. Ariel wraps herself in a robe and hurriedly runs her fingers through her hair so that she doesn’t look too disheveled. 

Jefferson pulls on a pair of black trousers and a button up, collared shirt, but only manages to get it halfway buttoned when his daughter’s voice is heard calling from the hallway. 

Ariel stifles a giggle as she notices after clicking on the bedside lamp that his hair is sticking up in an unkempt mess, nothing like the neat coif he usually wears when dressed like he is attempting.

The footsteps in the hall stop at their door and a light rapping on the door signal she’s waiting. “Papa? Are you awake?”

Ariel’s hand hovers over the doorknob as she looks to Jefferson. “You look fine. It’s okay.”

He nods and motions for her to open the door. The door is pulled open and the young woman beyond the door grins broadly at the sight of her father. But the grin falters slightly at the sight of Ariel standing beside the door, in a robe, and beside her half dressed father. “Oh. I-- Miss Ariel? You’re back?” 

Grace appears as if she wants to grin but the confusion on her face brings about a slight narrowing of her eyes.

“She’s back. For good, my dear Grace.” Jefferson steps up to his daughter and embraces her. Grace is nearly as tall as her father, her chin rests on his shoulder as her arms across his back hold him as close. Jefferson loosens his hold just enough to pull an arm Ariel’s way. 

Ariel takes his hand but doesn’t approach. This is their time. Their reunion after months apart. Stepping in seems like interfering to her. 

“For good?” Grace asks as she takes in the other woman who nods. But to Ariel’s surprise, Grace beams at her. “I’m so glad. Papa has been way too alone for his own good.”

“I agree,” Ariel laughs and hugs them both placing a kiss to Grace’s temple. “I’m so glad you’re home. We’ve been waiting.”

“You have?” Grace drops her arms to adjust the cross-body messenger bag.

 

Once they have settled into the living room, Ariel more appropriately dressed and Jefferson having buttoned and tucked in his shirt, Ariel removes a drawing from a folder and hands it to Grace. 

She takes the paper and studies the four figures upon the page. “This is me… But who is this?” Her finger taps the boy next to her. “What are you telling me?”

“You have a brother. His name is Arison. We’ve been in the Enchanted Forest for months. I’m sorry that I didn’t come back sooner.”

“I was worried, Papa, but I’m glad you’re back.” She sets her head upon her father’s shoulder and Ariel has to choke back the welling of emotion she feels at such a sight. “I can’t wait to meet him in the morning. Is my room still…”

“Yes, sweetheart. Your room is still yours. Arison’s is the next one over.”

She nods, gives her papa a kiss on the cheek, and several minutes later, everyone is back into their beds. 

Ariel finds it difficult to sleep. “Everything is working out now,” she whispers, back into their warm cocoon of blanket and bare embrace. Her hand spreads across Jefferson’s chest feeling the tickle of his light peppering of hair between her fingers. He cups her hand and brings her fingers to his lips as he places a kiss upon each digit. 

“I never thought…” His voice stops as he releases her hand and turns his face towards hers. His eyes roam her face. He’s thinking of what he had before, or didn’t rather; Ariel can tell by the way his expression changes.

“What? That you’d have all of this again?” Her fingers cup his jaw and move to smooth out his hair. It’s longer than she’s ever seen it as it drapes over his ears just enough. It’s different, yet he wears the longer hair well. And the length gives her something to play with. 

His eyes close at the sensation of her fingernails tracing along his scalp. His free arm pulls her closer so that she lays half upon him, one leg draped over his, and he smirks. “I’ve got more than I deserve.” His hand finds her bottom, smoothing over her silken skin.

“So have I,” she answers as she leans in to kiss his grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it. Thanks again for being so patient during my unacceptably long hiatus in posting the finale. It's really thanks to those of you that commented that motivated me to finish. I had this all played out in my head, but to appease you and the muses for telling out their story, I'm glad and pretty pleased with the results myself. Let me know what you think. If you hated it, maybe keep that to yourself because Jefferson wouldn't really give a shit anyway. But you might hurt Ariel's feelings and she's too precious, okay? ;) 
> 
> In between posting chapters 9 and 10, Once finished up season 6 and we got to see Badass Ariel again! I've been trying to write her with a bit of sass for a while now but to see her portrayed like that in canon was brilliant. 
> 
> A note about my version of Doc Brown: Emma asks why Marty McFly is present. I wanted to reference her asking Killian 'Who are you, Marty McFly?' as she did in the season 3 finale, and Killian's response to that. I love that on the show Henry and Emma have Killian trying and failing to make Star Wars references, so why not some Back to the Future, too? Also, my Doc Brown was intended to be a mix of Marty and Doc as a younger man. He even has a twitch in the chapter where Jefferson first meets him, in reference to sweet MJF. <3
> 
> I have left some things open in this fanfic so that if the muses get demanding again, I may have the opportunity to write some more. Possibly even how or why in the world Jefferson would feel so inclined to transport 100 more people through the hat in order to get Doc Brown to the Enchanted Forest. Broship goals! 
> 
> Thanks for coming along for the ride!  
> -AA


End file.
